Trials and Torments
by cap red
Summary: How long can a man stand up to torture? How long until he breaks? Well Henry, by the grace of God, King of England, is about to find out.
1. Where is he?

AN: Hi all, I've decided to try my hand in writing a Tudor fanfic. It will involve torture and angst and though I will try not to be too graphic, it will play a part in this fic. I have also condensed and altered the timeline a bit (actually quite a lot!), but I figure if Showtime can do it, so can I. I will not profess to be an expert on any of the topics that I will cover, and though I have tried to do the research, this is primarily a work of entertainment. In any event here's the first chapter, and I hope that you enjoy reading it.

Disclaimed: I don't own the Tudors. But really you can't really own the King of England (smirk).

* * *

Cromwell stalked impatiently around the room. He had arranged to meet the King in there three hours ago, and the King had yet to show. Granted the Kings time was his own, but really, the policy that he needed to discuss was rather important. In any event three hours was a long time to be kept waiting for any person, and being kept waiting for that long, even by the King was a bit excessive. He could only imagine that he had displeased the King in some way, and this was his punishment. But that was unlikely. The King was hardly discreet when it came to who was in his favour or not, and Cromwell could not think of anything that he may have done recently to anger his master. But the King would have sent a message if he was going to be late, he wasn't so inconsiderate as to leave him waiting like that. Not when the King was so reliant on the work that Cromwell proudly undertook for him, leaving the King free to enjoy more trivial pursuits.

Maybe he forgot, Cromwell thought, after all, his Lord was a fickle man and easily distracted. Yes that made sense, the King had forgotten about the meeting.

Cromwell quickly called for a page, and instructed him to relay a message to the King.

"Inform His Majesty that I regret that he was kept so busy as to not be able to find the time for his humble servant. Send my request that we arrange another meeting at His Majesty's pleasure."

The page left quickly with Cromwell's message, and Cromwell himself sat in wait for the Kings reply. He did not have to wait long, as the page returned quickly.

"My Lord," he said after he was admitted into the room, "His Majesty the King was not in his apartments. His groom informed me that the King has gone hunting."

Cromwell nodded in acknowledgement and promptly dismissed the page. He sat down heavily in a chair. The King had gone hunting. It wasn't unlike him to do so, the King was a great lover of the sport, but something sat heavily in his gut.

He looked out the window and suddenly it hit him. The King had set off early in the morning; Cromwell himself had watched the King depart. But it was now growing late and though it wasn't unusual for the King to spend all day in the saddle, it was unusual for the King to not arrange a picnic or other such event in the middle. At the very least he would have brought provisions but as far as Cromwell was aware, the King had intended to be back quickly.

More than that, it had started to rain in the early afternoon, and though it had only been a light drizzle then, looking out the window, Cromwell could see a storm threatening to break, as winds got increasingly fiercer.

A feeling of dread entered Cromwell.

Perhaps the King had taken shelter somewhere? Every house in England would be happy to host him whilst he waited out the storm. But if so why hadn't he sent a message?

He jumped as a clap of thunder echoed overhead.

There was only one course. He would have to send people out after the King. He would feel rather foolish if there was nothing wrong but he couldn't risk it. Something didn't feel right.

Another clap of thunder, followed by a burst of lightening and the heavens opened. Cromwell cringed. The men looking wouldn't be happy to go out in that, and Cromwell was dreading their reaction.

* * *

The man in charge of looking for the King was not happy, as he rode through the thick forest that only gave a minor protection to the torrents of rain that was falling. He was freezing, soaked to the skin and had a headache to rival a volcanic explosion, either that or good night of drinking.

Why Cromwell had sent them out he couldn't fathom. If the King wasn't at the court it was only because he was sensible enough to take shelter at the first sign of rain. But Cromwell hadn't considered that and had instead sent him and a troop of men, out in this infernal weather.

It wasn't as if they could track the King anyway. The rain was so thick that they could only see a few feet in front of them, and any torch they tried to light would quickly extinguish. It was a feeble effort, and one which was likely to leave many of them feeling groggy in the morning.

A man rode up beside him and in the dark he couldn't make out his features, but his voice gave him away as his second in command.

"This is foolish John, and you know it." His second in command complained.

"Orders are orders James." John said stiffly, adjusting in the saddle.

James snorted, "It's not like we're gonna find anyone. The Kings not gonna be out here in this weather. I'm telling you that."

John nodded in agreement, "Look. I agree with you, but we have to keep looking."

James's horse whinnied as he pulled back sharply on the reigns, and John pulled his horse to a stop as well.

"This is ridiculous. We are not going to find anything. Lets just return to Cromwell and say we had no luck and in the morning when the King rides in like nothing happened we can sit back, and be happy in the knowledge that we were right." John argued.

James was about to retort about the stupidity of that statement when one of the soldiers who was searching the surrounding area interrupted.

"Sir! Sir! Come quick." The voice called, and John quickly whirled around and headed into the clearing where the voices were calling from. James reluctantly followed him.

What he saw, was quite possible the last thing he expected to see, and he quickly shouted "Guards to me, to me!"

He jumped down from his horse and drew his sword which hissed loudly as it withdrew from the scabbard. The sight of the Kings grooms dead on the floor spooked him. The lack of the King terrified him.

He knelt next to one of the bodies and touched it. Cold, but whether that was from the rain, or the length of time since he died the guard had no way of telling. But as he drew his hand away, he felt the wetness of the mans blood and could almost taste the metallic taste in his mouth. He spat on the ground.

"Sir, over here." The same voice as before called.

He hurried over to where a man little more than a boy was kneeling next to a body. John wasn't surprised to see the Duke of Suffolk, as he was often a favourite on the Kings hunting trips.

James peered over his shoulder, "My God," he whispered, crossing himself, and John could finally see why.

Charles Brandon's chest was steadily rising and falling. John lifted a hand and placed it over the Dukes open mouth. He could immediately feel the warmth of his breath against his skin, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He then took stock of his injuries, a slight odd shape to his arm that suggested a break, and a cut on his head. He didn't look too injured, but that could be misleading. John knew that a man could bleed out on the inside without ever showing any evidence of blood on the outside.

He looked around the clearing. The attack had obviously happened a while before. The chances of them finding the traitors were slim, but... he looked at James.

"Take his Grace, back to the castle. Report what has happened and send reinforcements."

James nodded solemnly and John jumped on his horseback and looked at the men assembled grimly before him.

"The rest of you," he said looking each one in the eye.

"Find the King!"


	2. Who dares commit such treasonous acts?

AN: OK here's the second chapter. It's a really fast update, much faster then you can expect in future, but I was eager to get this out. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Tudors. I wish I did, but sadly I don't and so I think I will go and have a good cry over that fact.

* * *

Thomas Boleyn sat on a velvet chair in the dark cellar of his home. It would seem like a strange place for a person of his rank to be, were it not for the man tied up on the floor.

When his men had brought him in, he had been delighted that it had gone so smoothly. Ecstatic that the King had been fool enough to go out with only Charles Brandon and two grooms as guards. He had been so confidant, so _arrogant_, and because of that, he was isolated. It had been easy; Thomas Boleyn's men saw their opportunity and seized it.

Thomas had taken sadistic pleasure in ordering the King stripped, and thrown in the cold, wet cellar. Though the King was unconscious it did not lessen the joy he felt at seeing him so reduced.

He then sat and waited for the King to awaken. He had waited all night but it was worth it to be the first to see the shock and horror on His Majesty's face as he realised who had betrayed him. To see the King realise he was as helpless and weak as everyone else, as he had made Thomas feel for so long.

Thomas watched as Henry began to stir. He groaned loudly and slowly opened his eyes, blinking to see in the dim light. Thomas could see that they were unfocused as they gazed across the room until they landed on him. He could see the confusion in Henrys eyes as he asked, "Thomas?"

Boleyn leaned back in his chair and grinned wickedly, "Welcome to my home, Your Majesty. I'm sorry if the accommodation isn't quite what you are used to."

"Quite what I'm used to..." Henry mumbled as realisation seemed to hit him. He finally took stock of his surroundings, becoming more aware of the pounding between his eyes, the bruises that marred his naked body. His hands and feet were tied, so that he could not even manoeuvre into a sitting position and he was cold and visibly showing evidence of it.

He turned angry eyes on Thomas, "Release me at once _My Lord_, and I will consider showing mercy for this treason." He spat.

Boleyn just laughed, loudly and long, until tears leaked from the corner of his eyes. He wiped them away with a handkerchief, "You think that you can command me anything. Look at you, weak powerless, less then the meanest peasant. Less a _Man," _he said pointedly, "then a boy. At a snap of my fingers I could have you killed".

"I'm the King of England." Henry shouted, his eyes ablaze.

Boleyn smirked, "and yet my prisoner as well, and isn't that the crux of the matter".

* * *

He left after that, wanted to give the King a chance to stew in his new position. In reality though, it was more like he needed to sleep before facing the inevitable confrontation. Though there was no threat from Henry, Thomas wanted to best him in everything. The King was clever, and wouldn't hesitate to humiliate Thomas with words, and though no one would hear them, he was unwilling to grant the King even that small victory.

After he slept, he chose to dine instead of seeing Henry. However it quickly occurred to him that food could become an excellent leverage over the King and so ordered a servant to bring Henry to him. Two burly guards returned just as he was digging in with the King still naked dragged, struggling between them. Thomas had originally planned to give the King some rags to cover his nakedness, but had soon realised that if for whatever reason he managed to escape, a naked man would be automatically dismissed as mad. It was also, he had to admit to himself, delightfully appealing to be able to hold even clothes as leverage over the man.

Henry was stood before Thomas, the two guards holding him tightly by the arms to prevent him moving. He stood there defiantly, glaring at Thomas. But Thomas ignored him, choosing to continue eating.

Thomas was amused to see, a steady flush growing across the Kings body as he grew increasingly more enraged.

"Well, why have you brought me here, traitor?" he snapped.

Before Thomas could respond one of the guards smacked Henry across the face, so that his nose began to bleed profusely. The other guard was the only thing to prevent him falling to the floor.

"You will speak when spoken to." The guard said angrily.

Henry just continued to glower, and Thomas reminded himself to reward the guard for his loyalty.

"I am the King of England." Henry hissed.

"You're not my King." The guard responded resolutely.

"Then you are a traitor!"

The guard snarled, "You can't be a traitor to someone you have never had any loyalty to. I am a Boleyn man. What do I care for Kings?"

"I was ordained by God to rule over you. It is my divine right!"

The guard shrugged, "God's not looking after you now though is he? Maybe it's someone else's turn".

Henry grew silent and pale with anger. Boleyn resumed his eating the entertainment over.

The sound of chewing and chomping was all that was heard for the next few minutes as Thomas tore into bits of juicy chicken and succulent pork, and other such delights. The silence was interrupted though by an odd growling sound. He turned towards the guards and smiled broadly as the King turned away from where he was staring longingly at the food, blushing profusely from head to toe.

Almost nonchalantly Thomas held up a piece of chicken, "Are you hungry little King?"

"Yes as you well know." Henry snapped.

"Temper, temper." Thomas said mockingly, as he took a bite out of another piece of chicken.

"You can eat you know."

Henry looked warily at the piece of chicken dangling between two fingers. He was unsure whether Thomas was being serious or not and unwilling to make a bid for it only for it to be snatched away with a derisive laugh.

Thomas saw his dilemma and spoke casually, "Yes, all you have to do is kneel before me and I shall give you the scrapings on my plate." He spoke as if his offer was the most generous offer possible and he should be thrilled to accept it. Henry was not.

He grew white and trembled with suppressed rage, "You dare..."

"I take that as a no then? A pity it is all that you will be getting. Suit yourself though; I'm sure some blind, old beggar will be pleased to receive it." He interrupted blithely and returned to his food, waiting for another outburst.

Henry surprised him, he waited a good few minutes before speaking, "I don't understand. Why are you doing this to me? I raised you higher then almost any other man in the Kingdom. I made your daughter my Queen. I broke with Rome for your family."

Thomas glanced at Henry, "No you broke with Rome for yourself."

"I did not I..." Henry began to protest loudly, and indignantly.

"Yes, you did. You were tired of your wife, wanted a new younger one. Anne comes along and you're set. She's young and beautiful and will hopefully bare you sons. If she doesn't well, you can always get a new wife can't you?"

"I love Anne!"

Thomas chewed thoughtfully on a piece of meat, "Oh, you say you do. I'm pretty sure that you even think that you do. But in the end we all know that you would eventually grow tired of her. Seek to displace her. "

"I wouldn't do..."

"Oh but you would," Thomas interrupted, "But here is the beauty of it all. It doesn't matter because you played right into our hands. We knew that you would eventually grow tired of Anne but what if we got rid of you first, before your mind could change, fickle as it is. We would then be the first family in the land. It would be the Boleyn's turn to rule, and we would be greater and more brilliant then any _Tudor_ could ever hope to be."

Henry gasped, "You tricked me, I was just a tool for you. Anne never loved me, she just _used_ me! And I like a fool believed you. I treated you like a family, loved you as the family of my wife and you _betrayed_ me. I...I..."

Thomas smirked, "We betrayed you yes, but it was you that made it possible. Don't you see that without you we could never have done it? If you hadn't been consumed with your vanity, it would not have been possible. You are the one responsible for your own predicament, and I will enjoy the bliss of reaping the benefits of it."

In a rage Henry tore himself out of the guards grip and lunged for Thomas, hurling obscenities as he did so. He got as far as tackling him to the ground before arms grabbed him and pulled him away. Thomas stood up brushing himself off as he turned a disdainful look at the heavily panting Henry.

"Take him back to the cellar. Make sure he understands the repercussions of trying such actions again."

The guards shared a vicious smirk before taking Henry out the room.

Thomas glanced at himself. That encounter had just taught him something valuable. Henry was still dangerous. He would have to take precautions to reduce that danger. He grinned widely. He would enjoy breaking that indomitable will.

* * *

Charles Brandon sat staring hopelessly at the wall of his chambers. His King was missing. His King had been captured by foreign agents. His friend had been taken and he had been useless! He hadn't even been able to put up a fight. He had been unconscious before he had even known they were being attacked.

Perhaps that was what saved him. He hadn't seen who had attacked and so wasn't a threat to them. He could be left alive because he wouldn't be able to give any descriptions. He was alive only because he had been so useless.

He sighed loudly. It had been a week. A week had gone and with it all hope of pursuing the Kings captors. They would be long gone. Their only hope now was to wait for a ransom. They would pay it; they couldn't not pay it, even if it would cripple the country.

Charles didn't dare think of the alternative. That there wouldn't be a ransom, that the King was dead. Charles wouldn't contemplate that until he had seen a body. He prayed fervently that there wouldn't be a body.

There was a knock on the door, and Charles looked up. No one had come to see him since the Kings disappearance. At first that was because he was unconscious. Later it was because it seemed no one cared to visit. The Duke couldn't blame them. He wouldn't want to be with him either in his mood.

"Enter." He called absently.

The door creaked open and in walked the Duke of Norfolk. Charles looked at his one time ally, and wondered why he was there. They weren't friends, couldn't be described as such in even the loosest sense. Howard wasn't coming for a social visit then.

"Lord Norfolk," Brandon stated in acknowledgement.

Norfolk looked around the room slightly. Brandon was a state. He was pale with bags under his eyes. His clothing was unkempt and wrinkled and he looked so wretched as to be entirely pitiable. Norfolk could understand that. To lose the King was devastating, but to lose your best friend at the same time must be beyond unbearable. The fact that Brandon could have been in a position to stop it, must be eating him up inside.

He gathered himself up. Whatever Brandon's feelings on the matter, he could not be left to waste away in his rooms. He was effectively the highest ranked man in the land alongside himself and had a responsibility, in the absence of the King, to manage the country.

"I have business to discuss with you Brandon." He stated without preamble.

Charles snorted, "What's the point? Nothing matters anyway."

Norfolk frowned. Charles sounded so defeated, so angry at everything. He was seriously worried about his state of mind, but... he needed Charles. Whatever way he looked at it, Brandon was powerful and popular. He needed Brandon to influence the council. A Regent needed to be appointed, and whoever it was needed to be under his influence. Brandon could prevent that. Brandon could present his own candidate and split the council. They needed to be united.

"Have you left this room at all in the past week?" Howard asked, changing the conversation.

The Duke of Suffolk shook his head.

"Then come and walk with me as we discuss are business." He turned and stalked out the room, confidant in the knowledge that Brandon would follow him.

Brandon raised an eyebrow at Norfolk's presumption. They were equals, both Dukes. To think that Norfolk could order him around was ludicrous. But, he mused, he did need to get out the room. It was stifling, and he needed a change of pace, needed to think. He followed Norfolk.

They walked in silence for a few moments, leaving the busy part of the palace, where they could easily be overheard to the less used rooms and corridors.

"What do you wish to discuss Norfolk?" Brandon asked when he judged that they were sufficiently isolated.

"We need to discuss who will be Regent whilst His Majesty is missing." Howard stated.

Brandon shook his head wildly, "No, I won't. I can't!"

"You must! You must accept that the King is missing and that in the mean time, government must continue." Norfolk hissed.

Brandon shook his head some more, "How can you be so accepting of it?"

"Not accepting, just practical. We need a Regent or else the country will tear itself apart."

"Wouldn't the Queen be the logical Regent?" Brandon asked.

Norfolk stared incredulously, "You would accept her as your ruler?" he asked, knowing full well of Brandon's animosity for his niece.

"No, not really." Brandon answered, and he realised that he wouldn't be the only one to protest her rule.

"Exactly, we need to agree upon who will be suitable for both of us, and together back that nomination. No one would dare argue with the combined forces of the Dukes of Suffolk and Norfolk. But that isn't all we need to consider. I'm sure you are as aware as I on the country's financial situation. We need to discuss what amount we are capable of paying in ransom."

"Whatever they ask." Brandon said promptly.

"Don't be foolish My Lord. We may not be able to afford that amount."

"Then we will tax the people!"

"And so incite rebellion! Really Suffolk, think practically." said Howard condescendingly.

Brandon stopped walking and looked at the Duke intensely. "I am thinking that I will pay any cost, to have my King returned."

Norfolk was about to retort when he heard a feminine giggle coming from one of the rooms. Both men whirled around, before they realised what that giggle most likely meant. Awkwardly they shared a glance before mutually deciding to move away from the area.

They had only gone a few steps before they heard the female speak. It was a voice they both instantly recognised and had them hurrying back to hear what was been said.

"Oh Robin. That is fantastic news that you bring from my father." Anne Boleyn giggled.

"Think nothing of it, My Lady. I jumped at the chance to deliver the news personally. It is after all such an honour to see a Queen in all her glory." A deep, masculine voice answered.

"Yes, and you have seen far more of the royal person then anyone else, haven't you." Anne laughed, and there was a slight rustle of fabric, followed by a moaning noise.

The Dukes shared a look of astonishment.

"Tell me, my heart. Were you there, when they took him?"

"There My Lady? I struck the bastard myself and personally conveyed him to your father." Robin answered proudly.

"You weren't hurt were you?" Anne asked worriedly.

"Not a scratch. He could not get near me."

The men couldn't hear what Anne said next, as it was whispered so lowly, but they heard the response.

"Oh heart, I would love to. But you're pregnant. I can not risk the child's life." The man answered regretfully.

"But it has been so long since I was last satisfied. Henry couldn't please a woman and it has been so long since I have had anyone else."

"By anyone else you mean me?" said the mans voice wryly.

"Of course my heart, you are without a doubt the most pleasing man I have ever lain with."

This was followed by the sound of kissing. Then the man spoke again, panting loudly and speaking slowly in between kisses.

"Your only comparison is the King, and I have seen his assets. They are nothing to brag about."

"How have you seen them?" Anne asked.

"Your father ordered him stripped, and I had the distinct pleasure of carrying out the order. It was a most enlightening experience. It is a wonder that he has managed to father any children at all. That you may be carrying his child is unbelievable."

"It's not his." Anne stated.

Charles reeled back in shock, something that was echoed from within the room, as the activity within stopped.

"What do you mean it's not his?" Robin asked, his voice hoarse.

"Just what I said," Charles could imagine that he could see her smirk. "The King thinks it is his. Certainly I made him believe so. As soon as I suspected that I was pregnant I lay with the King. But it's not his. It's yours."

"Mine." The man gasped, and Suffolk could here a loud thump from within the room.

"Yes yours." Said Anne breathily, followed by another Kiss.

"My son is in the Queen of England's belly!" he let out a whoop of excitement.

"Yes your son is going to be the next King of England, and then it will finally be the end of the Tudors."

Charles barely had the time to react as he saw the Duke of Norfolk lunge towards the door. His temper no longer able to be held in after what he had heard. Brandon quickly pulled him away, holding a hand over Howard's mouth so that they wouldn't be heard. Brandon pulled him to an isolated room, several corridors away and pushed him inside.

Norfolk glared at Brandon as he shut the door firmly behind them.

"Are you a fool Norfolk?"

"A fool? Why did you stop me? I was going to murder that treasonous hussy. That whore. I disown her as my niece. She kidnapped the King, is conspiring to put a bastard on the throne. She is a traitor and deserves to be burnt at the stake. Why did you stop me?" he shouted.

Brandon stared coolly at Norfolk, "She has the King." He stated.

"Exactly! She betrayed him, we need to arrest her and retrieve the King and..."

Brandon interrupted loudly, "and if we do all that, then the King will die. They have the King at their mercy Norfolk. They can kill him before our men even get to their home."

Norfolk visibly deflated, "Then what can we do. We know who has the King, but there is nothing we can do about it."

Charles grew silent. Since losing the King he had felt useless, like a waste of space. But in the few minutes since over hearing Boleyn's conversation, an idea had hatched in his head.

He looked at Norfolk and for the first time in several days smiled.

"I have a plan, but I am going to need your help."


	3. Who Shall Rule?

AN:Hi all! This is a rather short chapter, but I thought it was a good place to end so yeah, enjoy. ;)

Disclaimer: I don't own the Tudors, if I did we would live in a seriously messed up world.

* * *

"I still don't understand how this will help the King." Norfolk whispered to Brandon as they walked towards the council chamber, ignoring the courtiers who moved aside in their wake.

Brandon sighed as he went over his reasons again, "Listen, if we remove their power base and subtly undermine their position here, then that will make it easier to get to the King."

"I'm not a fool Suffolk. I am aware of that. What I am not aware of is how we will get to the King." Norfolk protested.

"It's very simple. If their worried about their position here, then they will make mistakes. They might panic, they will be distracted. That will allow us to plan." Charles explained.

Howard huffed, "I still don't like it."

Brandon ran a hand through his hair, "In truth, neither do I, but it is our only option. I would love nothing less then be able to take a thousand troops and storm their home, to rescue His Majesty, but we can't do that. This is whether we like it or not is the Kings greatest chance. Regardless we need to lessen their influence or we risk putting the sons of traitors on the throne of England."

Norfolk nodded in agreement.

"We're set in our actions anyway. It's too late to change our plan now, we must be resolved. Are you ready My Lord?" he asked, just as they reached the doors to the room.

The two shared a look, squared their shoulders and the door was flung open admitting them into the chamber.

* * *

"...having set the number of troops to have searching for His Majesty, the next thing that we must discuss is who shall be Regent in the Kings absence."

"Wouldn't Her Majesty rule? She is an anointed Queen." One courtier piped up.

Norfolk put on his best courtly smile, and said, "I'm afraid that in Her Majesty's condition it would not be wise to put her under so much stress."

"What do you mean?"

"We would not wish to endanger the life of a Prince of England by asking Her Majesty to engage in such strenuous activity as running the country. She must already be experiencing so much grief, just with the knowledge that the King, her husband is missing. In fact I believe that the Queen should be kept from any news that may distress her as much as possible. To that end I propose that the Queen enter into seclusion earlier so that she is not confronted with any knowledge that may put her and her child at risk."

There was a murmur round the table, mostly of agreement although there seemed to be some dissent. Norfolk decided to put the final nail in the coffin, "After all we all do know that with the Kings situation so precarious, any heir to the throne is doubly precious."

The message was clear, the King may be dead so don't risk the life of a boy who could be born King. The dissenters silenced and the council reached consensus.

"If not the Queen then who?" another courtier asked.

"Lord Boleyn, after all he is the Queens father." suggested another.

Brandon shook his head and drew attention to himself, "and what experience does Boleyn have in ruling the country?" he scoffed.

The courtier scowled, "Then who would you suggest, Your Grace. After all the Princess Elizabeth is only a toddler. Would you rule? Would My Lord Norfolk rule?"

"No." They said simply.

"Then who do you suggest?" he persisted.

Norfolk and Suffolk shared a look. This was the most risky part of their endeavour, but if they succeeded it would be a huge dent in the plans of the Boleyn's.

Brandon turned to look at all the council and said coolly, "The Lady Mary, the Kings daughter."

* * *

Henry was half dragged, half carried to where Thomas Boleyn was eating his meal as he had been every day for the past several days.

When he reached the room, Thomas was once again eating a veritable feast. Henry's mouth watered as he took in the sight. Boleyn turned to acknowledge Henry.

"Are you ready to submit to my will." He asked Henry.

Henry shook his head stubbornly, although even that small movement took a tremendous strength of will. Not one morsel of food had passed his lips since arriving and he was starved. The price for food though was deemed to high.

Thomas smirked and lent back in his chair lazily, "Come now Henry. Surely you don't want to starve to death."

Henry glared sullenly, but his resolve was fading.

"You must be so hungry. You haven't eaten all week. It will be so easy to get some food. You know what you have to do though."

Henry shook his head mutely. He couldn't do it. He wouldn't demean himself in that way. But he was so hungry...

Boleyn smiled, "Suit yourself then, take him back to his room. We will try again in the morning; perhaps he will be more amicable then."

The men moved to take Henry away, but Henry stopped them.

"Wait," he rasped.

Thomas looked up from where he had resumed eating.

Henry shook himself out of the men's grip, and took a couple of shaky steps forward.

His pride balked at what he was about to do, but he was so hungry and he knew that Boleyn would not submit. He had no choice.

He knelt before Boleyn, humbling himself and said, "Please, I beg of you, I am so hungry. Please, let me eat."

Thomas smirked broadly, and took a few items of food off his table and tossed them at Henrys feet.

He then lent forward, and patted Henry on the head. Henry winced at the touch.

"There," he said, "that wasn't so hard, and now you can eat."

Henry grabbed the food and stuffed it into his mouth greedily, but as he swallowed it he thought that food had never tasted as sweet, or as bitter before.

Thomas watched eagerly as the King took what was offered. He had been worried that the Kings pride would not break so easily. If Henry had held out just a couple more days then Boleyn would not have had any choice but to feed him, and that would have been a great victory for Henry. It was too soon for the King to die though, he was needed alive.

But Henry had submitted. He had knelt before Thomas and lowered himself. Boleyn had just for a moment won completely and utterly and Thomas was filled with such glee at that knowledge. He had to remind himself though that it wasn't over, far from it in fact, but now the King had proved himself beatable, had shown the limits of his endurance and the weakness of his will. Boleyn was ready to move on to the next stage of his plan.

He looked at the Kings still prostrate form and a smile bloomed across his face. Yes, everything was going perfectly.


	4. Lady Regent

AN: New Chapter, Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Tudors. If I did, that would make the King of England a slave, which is slightly inconceivable.

* * *

The Lady Mary was sitting at her window in her room, sewing needle in hand as she concentrated on mending her dress. It was one of the rare moments that she had to herself, as for once she was not attending on her sister Elizabeth. Elizabeth was an adorable, precocious child and whilst Mary resented having to wait of her, she did not resent spending time with her.

The other ladies were another story. They had each been chosen specifically for their loyalty to Elizabeth and Anne Boleyn. As such they were quick to be cruel to her. None were her friends, and each took pleasure in reminding her that she was naught but a bastard. The worst of them was the Lady Bryan, who frequently made her perform the most menial of chores. Chores which were not fit for a Lady let alone a Kings daughter, whether she was legitimate or not. She had at times even raised her hand as if to strike her, the only thing holding her back was the knowledge, that though she was out of favour now, she could be restored at any time.

Mary frowned; the ladies had been acting strange the past few days. They would talk in hushed whispers and then not speak at all when she drew near enough to hear. Worried looks constantly graced their faces and they would send furtive glances in her and Elizabeth's direction.

She had thought for a time, that perhaps some news had trickled down that Mary was soon to be returned to favour, and that Boleyn was in danger. Such news would have brought about such actions and would have gladdened Mary immensely. But she had quickly dismissed that thought as naive. If her luck was changing, then the actions of the ladies did not reflect that. Her situation had not improved at all, and none of the ladies sought to gain her favour. No something else was bothering them, although she did not have any idea what.

Mary turned to look out the window and was surprised to see a retinue of men, under the Duke of Suffolk's banner entering the grounds. She would have dearly liked to speak to the Duke, but knew that was impossible as she was forbidden to speak to anyone without permission. She was not allowed any chance to bring people to her cause.

She turned her attention back to her sewing, but was interrupted just a few minutes later by an insistent knock on her door. The person didn't even wait for a response before throwing open the door. She scowled darkly at the occupant before saying to Mary.

"You are wanted downstairs. You have a visitor."

Mary raised an eyebrow at the rudeness of the girl, who didn't even offer the tiniest courtesy, but obediently rose. She smoothed her skirt, before nodding her head and followed the girl to a small chamber, where the Duke of Suffolk and Lady Bryan were waiting.

When she entered the Duke rose from where he was sitting and bowed low, and Mary in turn offered him a grateful smite and a curtsey. Lady Bryan let out a slight huff, but did not protest.

"It is good to see you My Lady. Are you well?" Charles began politely, and took a seat.

Mary occupied the one opposite him, and responded, "Yes My Lord, and you?"

Charles grimaced slightly, "As well as can be expected given the circumstances."

Mary looked puzzled, "What circumstances are these, My Lord?"

Brandon gaped slightly and looked from Mary to Lady Bryan who looked pointedly in the other direction. Realisation dawned on him.

"You didn't tell her!" he accused angrily.

"What business is it of hers to know the affairs of the kingdom? She is only a bastard, and has chores to do on behalf of the Princess. I didn't see the need to tell her." She said haughtily.

"She is his daughter!" Brandon exclaimed.

Mary not knowing what was happening, grew annoyed at the back and forth conversation and interjected. "What have I not been told?"

Charles sighed and said sorrowfully, "My Lady I regret to inform you that His Majesty the King was captured several days past."

Mary shrank backwards; her eyes open wide, speechless as his words caught up with her. The room grew cold, and her skin became icy to the touch.

_Regret to inform you._

_Her father captured._

_Captured_

_Captured_

She gaped in shock, unwilling to believe the words spoken to her, but looking at Charles Brandon she knew the truth.

"How...?" She tried to articulate the question, but her mouth couldn't work, wouldn't form the words. Brandon seemed to understand anyway.

"It was an ambush. Men out of nowhere attacked whilst we were out hunting. The grooms were all killed. I was knocked unconscious. I couldn't do anything. The King was taken. My Lady...I'm sorry."

Mary nodded slightly, trying to make sense of it all, but her hands trembled, and she couldn't breathe.

_Gone_

"Damnit, will you give us some privacy." Brandon swore to Lady Bryan as he noticed tears begin to fall down the Lady Mary's face.

Lady Bryan hesitated a moment, but she knew that circumstances had changed and so without protest left the room. Brandon knew though that she was probably standing just outside the door listening in.

Propriety be damned, he got up and took Mary into his arms. Mary collapsed into the embrace, sobbing uncontrollably. For several minutes she cried, and Charles allowed her to. At last though she recovered herself and stepped back away from Brandon.

"Forgive me Your Grace. I seemed to have got you all wet." She sniffed.

Brandon smiled gently at her, "I think I can forgive you for that. It seemed that you needed the release."

Mary nodded, and tried to compose herself. She was devastated, but wise enough to know that Brandon had not come all the way to tell her the news personally. He had something important to say. She brought herself up to her full height and set her jaw. She would have time to grieve later, but now was not the time.

Charles watched the transformation and thought that in that moment though she didn't know it, she looked every inch the Princess.

"Why did you come here Your Grace?" Mary asked without preamble.

Brandon spoke gently, "My Lady the Council has appointed a Regent to rule in the Kings absence. My Lady they chose you."

Mary shook her head in confusion, "That makes no sense. Why me? Why not Anne Boleyn or some other noble?"

"My Lady, as the Kings daughter you were a natural choice. No other noble has any experience in the running of the country. You were the Princess of Wales for a time."

"I was but a child, I can hardly be called experienced at ruling." Mary said wryly.

"True and it was difficult to convince the other nobles that you were the best choice. But both I and the Duke of Norfolk backed you, refusing the honour ourselves and no other noble has enough individual power to even be considered." Brandon explained.

"Perhaps not the other nobles but you have yet to answer my question. Why not Anne Boleyn and why did the Duke of Norfolk back me?" Mary persisted.

Brandon lowered his voice, and Mary leant in close to hear him.

"Officially it's because of her pregnant state, and the stress it would cause the unborn baby. Unofficially it's because she is too dangerous to be allowed to rule. The Duke and I discovered the plot. My Lady, she is the one to have kidnapped the King."

Mary gasped, "But how? Why?"

Brandon spoke grimly, "We do not know why but we are certain."

"Then why isn't my father already rescued and that wretched family in the tower?"

"It's too dangerous; we can't do that without killing the King in the process. But we have a plan."

"Explain!" Mary demanded.

"You will rule, undermining their position, gaining peoples trust and becoming more and more popular. You will order the troops to search in certain areas, areas far away from the Boleyn estate, so as to not alert them of our suspicions. Your main job will be to keep them off balance, make them worry. Keep them distracted with your actions, distracted enough that they will make mistakes. In the mean time, we will try and find out exactly where they are holding the King and mount a rescue. One man may succeed where a thousand troops will fail. Our best hope and the Kings is secrecy."

Mary nodded, "I understand, but won't I be in danger? Surely they will try and remove me as their biggest threat."

Brandon smiled, "Are you joking? They will be unable to do a thing to you. Any action against you will bring suspicion on their own heads, as they are your declared enemies. You will be also so well protected at all times that they will not be able to get near you, even if they were so foolish as to try."

Mary sighed, "When do we leave?"

"Immediately." Brandon replied.

He got up and stalked over to the doors, throwing them open to reveal the Lady Bryan trying to be inconspicuous about her eavesdropping. He sneered at her.

"Have My Lady Regents belongings packed at once, so that she may return to the palace."

Lady Bryan glared back, before with a great sigh went to get the job done.

* * *

Henry stood in the same room as Thomas once again, only this time he was standing in attendance on Boleyn. Boleyn had decided that it was high time that Henry learnt how to serve others. Every so often he would be called upon to serve more wine or place bits of meat on his plate, or even hold a bowl of water so that Boleyn could wash his hands. Boleyn would then take great delight in shaking his hands to dry them, flicking bits of freezing water at Henry's exposed flesh. He was even made to wipe Boleyn's face, as if he wasn't wholly capable of performing the task himself.

Thomas had also invited two of his men to eat with him. So Henry was forced to endure the indignity of serving them as well.

One of the men gestured for Henry to bring more meat. Henry glared at the person, before reluctantly shuffling forward. He picked up the heavy plate and carried it round the other side. He carefully balanced the plate as he placed several pieces of meat before the man, before moving to return the plate to the table.

He had barely taken two steps before he was sent sprawling to the floor. The food splattered everywhere as the plate fell with a great clang, spinning a few times on its side before coming to a stop. He heard the loud guffaw of the men and he flushed with embarrassment and rage.

He slowly got up onto his knees, trying to avoid aggravating the grazed skin before getting up and facing the men. Boleyn sat there smirking widely, his leg extended where he had purposely tripped him.

"You're a clumsy idiot aren't you?" he said to the laughter of his men, "Pick it up."

Henry drew himself up to his full, impressive height. He had had enough! He was King and was not going to be treated that way! He was not going to be demeaned any further.

"No!" he said coldly.

Thomas Boleyn smile faded, "What did you say?"

"Are you deaf? I said no."

Boleyn's eyes flashed, "You will do it!"

"I will not! I am the King of England! You will not command me anything." Henry snapped, crossing his arms.

The look of anger on Boleyn's face disappeared and he smirked cruelly, "Very well, I will bargain with you. Do it and you get to eat."

Henry deflated. Food. It had been a while since he had eaten, and the pang of hunger was gnawing away at his belly. Damn him. Damn him to hell, for making him do it. Shoulders slumped he knelt on the floor, and began to pick up the bits of food.

"Wait." Boleyn commanded.

Henry looked at him, wondering what he was going to say. By the evil smirk on his face it couldn't be anything good.

"For that act of defiance, you do not get to use your hands to do the job."

Henry glared at him, before resigning himself. Reluctantly he started shuffling around, trying to pick up the food. He tried to use his feet, elbows, and mouth. The men watched, laughing heartily at the new entertainment, as Henry was forced to endure knew humiliation.

Boleyn watched happily. Everything was working fine.


	5. Heartfelt Prayer

AN: Hi all, this is my next chapter. It contains some religious imagery. Since I am not a Roman Catholic or even Christian I may have got some things wrong. In fact I found the prayer itself on the web, and it's latin translation so that may be wrong as well. But I thought that the prayer worked for this scene, and since the character I am writing did live in a very religious time I thought it was quite an essential part of the story. Anyway what I am trying to say is, if I have offended anyone by the contents it was not meant, and I apologise.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Tudors, and I am not making any money from this. If I was I would be very confused as to how that was possible.

* * *

Anne paced across the floor of her grand chambers, a room she was utterly sick of the sight of since been moved there two months before. She was in confinement. What should have been her triumph was instead her isolation.

She scowled as outside her rooms she heard shouts of, "Make way. Make way for My Lady Regent, the Kings daughter."

It was all that girls fault, that she was stuck in her rooms surrounded by only women and not allowed to take part in any of her favourite pastimes. Oh, she was still honoured as Queen, but it was Queen in name only. Mary ruled in fact.

Anne remembered when Mary had first been brought back to court. She was thin and dressed in tatty clothes unbefitting her status. Anne had laughed then, thinking that no man would follow such a pauper. She wasn't laughing now.

Mary had all her fathers, dominance, strength, pride and charisma and all her mothers' wit and beauty. She was a truly regal girl, and that had shown beneath the clothing that she had worn. But she hadn't worn it for long, for as Regent she had control of her fathers' money and quickly granted herself an allowance. Soon she was decked out in elaborate dresses, and rich jewels and finery.

Oh! But she was a clever girl. She had not made one move against the Boleyn's. Anne still received her Queens's allowance, and her brother still held all his positions. May had said that since her Father the King had been the one to grant them everything, only her father could take it away.

She wouldn't acknowledge as Anne as her Queen, but then she didn't acknowledge Anne at all. She didn't have to, as Anne was a prisoner in her own rooms!

She gave a shriek of rage and sent an object against a wall, glaring angrily as it broke into pieces. One of her Ladies hurried into the room, dropping into a brief curtsey.

"Madam?" She questioned.

Anne just glared, and the Lady quickly left the room, leaving her mistress to her rage. That was another thing. Before Mary came no one had dared call her anything but Your Majesty. They hadn't wanted to make it seem that they didn't think her marriage legitimate. But now, no one but her most loyal allies called her anything but the carefully neutral madam.

Yet they were constantly calling Mary Your Grace, and she was constantly reminding them of her fathers' edict, that she should not be referred to as such. She didn't give any cause for suspicion at all, and that was despite all of her scheming.

Anne had her spies try and suggest that Mary take her fathers rooms, but she had refused. She had tried getting her to wear purple, but she refused. She had tried slander, but none had believed the rumours, and she had tried assassination. It had failed and Mary grew in popularity.

Anne sat down heavily on her bed. If she could just get this pregnancy over with it would be different. She'd be free to leave her rooms and become the centre of court life again. She would replace Mary as the centre of attention, as how could Mary compare to the beautiful, intelligent Anne Boleyn. Especially since Anne would be the father of a prince, nay a King, as her father would deliver the Kings body after she was delivered of a child.

But she felt so bloated, and round and grotesque. She hadn't felt this way with Elizabeth, but this baby was so heavy to carry. She was constantly tired and hungry. She ordered food at the most obscene hours, and wanted to be amused on a near constant basis, so she could be distracted from the pain in her back, and she still had months to go!

She wanted to leave the room. She wanted to have the baby. She wanted to be beautiful again. She wanted Mary dead!

But none of that was going to happen, was it?

* * *

"Damn it." Boleyn swore, as his man Robin lazed in front of him.

"What's the problem?" he drawled.

"The problem is that we caught another thief sneaking around last night. That is the fifth one this month. Does that not strike you as unusual?" he hissed.

Robin shrugged, "Not particularly. It is a cold winter; the harvest may have been bad. There are any number of reasons why someone would try and steal from a wealthy looking house."

Boleyn laughed mockingly, "You are a fool to believe that. We are the relatives of the King, a well known fact. No one would dare rob us for such minor reasons; they would be far more likely to try a wealthy merchant's home."

"You are also highly unpopular. The people love Katherine, and without the King to protect you, you're fair game. Marys certainly not going to help you." Robin pointed out.

Boleyn fell into a chair, "No someone suspects something!"

"Then give them no reason to suspect anything."

Boleyn looked confused, "What do you mean."

"What's the last thing people would suspect you to do if you had the King in your house?" Robin asked.

Boleyn shook his head.

"You invite them in." Robin cried, throwing his hands up into the air in defeat.

"You mean..." Boleyn began; his lips twitching slightly as understanding dawned on him.

"Yes, throw some sort of event, a huge party which many people will attend. It's Christmas coming up soon. You could have a Christmas party, and no one would think it odd that you are celebrating Christmas, even with the King missing."

But Boleyn was shaking his head, "It's too risky, someone is bound to find out, with so many people around. And where will we keep the King? The cellar is too obvious, if we are under suspicion they will surely search there and it will be a bit of a give away if we have guards stationed in front of it, or anywhere else for that matter."

"So we move the King, upstairs where people will be unlikely to look. We won't have guards in front of it as that will draw attention. We can lure them away from us."

"I still don't like it." Boleyn persisted.

The two sat in silence for a few minutes, before Boleyn finally gave a great heave and stood up with a sigh.

He turned his back to Robin looking out of the grounds.

"Fine, do it. I don't like it, but I trust your judgement. Arrange everything; I don't want any chance of this backfiring on us."

"Don't worry; I've got as much to lose in this as you do. Don't forget my son is going to be King." Robin puffed up his chest.

Boleyn turned around and glared at Robin.

"And don't you forget that no one but us can ever know that fact!"

* * *

Henry was alone in the cellar, desperate stripped of all dignity, naked and without any hope. He turned to the one thing he had left...prayer.

He didn't have a cross, nor a prayer book, or any other holy item, but for the first time in a long time he prayed. Not the image of prayer, the empty platitudes and promises. Mere meaningless words, but he prayed in truth. True heartfelt prayer that every fibre of his being believed in and every part of his soul ordered.

_Kyrie, eleison._

He knelt on the floor, his head bowed in supplication. At first he said the prayers that he had been taught, prayers that he had recited every day all his life. He was quite fluent in the language, and so listened to the words that he spoke interpreting them in his mind, trying desperately to find some deeper meaning to them.

"**Credo in Deum Patrem omnipotentem;  
Creatorem caeli et terrae." **

'I believe in God, the Father almighty,  
creator of heaven and earth.' He translated, and he did believe. More strongly then anything he believed in that. It was the only thing left for him.

_Lord have mercy._

"**Et in Jesum Christum,  
Filium eius unicum, Dominum nostrum;  
qui conceptus est  
de Spiritu Sancto,  
natus ex Maria virgine;"**

'I believe in Jesus Christ,  
his only Son, our Lord.  
He was conceived  
by the power of the Holy Spirit,  
and born of the Virgin Mary,' His faith was the only thing left for him.

_Christe, eleison._

"**passus sub Pontio Pilato,  
crucifixus, mortuus, et sepultus;"**

'He suffered under Pontius Pilate,  
was crucified, died, and was buried;' He was going to die. Like Christ he was going to die, in pain and torture. He didn't want to die.

_Christ have mercy._

"**descendit ad inferos;"**

'He descended into hell.' Henry was in hell already, and it was no fiery pit, but the evil of humanity. Torture, starvation, humiliation, the stripping of all vanity and pride, leaving but a husk of a man, that was true hell, and no man could truly understand the desperation of it until he experienced it himself.

_Kyrie, eleison._

**tertia die resurrexit a mortuis;  
ascendit ad caelos;**

'On the third day he rose again;  
he ascended into heaven,' There would be no rising for Henry. He was stuck in his pit. He didn't want to be stuck anymore, but there was no heaven for Henry, no resurrection no new beginning. This was it.

_Lord have mercy._

He tried to continue with what he was taught, but the words escaped him. They weren't enough! Didn't convey enough. He broke down weeping and switched to words that were in his very soul.

"Lord, I do not know what I have done to deserve this. I am not an evil man; I suffer from the sins of men. Pride, vanity, greed, these I know to be mine, but are my sins so great as to be reduced so? Am I so far from your favour?"

_Christe, audi nos._

"Lord, I am scared. Scared for myself and for my country. My country which I know is under the control of traitors and tyrants. People whose very nature makes me now cringe in terror for they are the devils. I am more scared for myself though, as I know that I am in danger of dying. I am not ready to die, though I will convey my soul into your hands when I am ready. Please deliver me, save me, rescue me. I am without hope but for you. Deliver me from my slavery and pain. Take me from this hateful place. I do not desire anymore riches or favour, but simply freedom. I long to taste the air, and feel the sun and know goodness and kindness once again."

_Christ hear us._

He gasped for breath, tears flowing down his face; he clasped his hands to the sky. "Please Lord; I do not know what to do. I can not go on like this. I am so very hungry, so starved for kindness. Lord please save me. I need help."

_Christe, exaudi nos._

"Why did you desert me? Why? Please do not abandon me in my time of need. If you should but give me my freedom then I will change my ways and never sin again. Lord, Please. Lord I beg of you. I am alone, and lost. Please. Why won't you save me? Lord, please deliver me. Lord please.

_Christ graciously hear us._

He fell to the floor, his head in his hands as he cried bitter tears. His whole body shook and he didn't know what to say. He just moved his mouth wordlessly in desperate plea.

The door swung open, and there stood Boleyn's man.

Henry looked up, his face blotchy, tears still falling down his face. The man smirked at the sight.

"You are being moved. Come on."

Henry's heart fell, and a deep coldness penetrated him. There was no hope.


	6. Can't breathe

AN: Here's the next chapter. Some of you may recognise the scene at the end. If you do, then note that you can still use it as a fic prompt. In fact it was that scene that sparked this entire idea. Anyway... on with the story!

Disclaimer: I don't own the Tudors... but if I did would that make me higher then Royalty?

* * *

Henry woke with a cry, as icy water engulfed him. He had been dreaming of pleasant things, and happier times. The sudden waking left him shivering. He brought his arms up around his chest, partially in a defensive gesture, and partially to conserve the heat in his body. He glared up at the man who was smirking down at him, content in his own superiority.

"Good that got rid of the smell. I was ready to vomit it was so vile, worse then a farm animal. Stand up" he ordered Henry, who had been lying on the hard, dusty floor. The room once a bedchamber had been stripped of all objects, and Henry had to content himself with finding the softest piece of floor he could find. Seeing as the room was stone, he had not had much luck, and he had woken sore, cranky and somewhat defiant.

He stood anyway.

"Are you releasing me?" he said.

The man, called Phillip, snorted, "And be hung for treason, not likely."

"I'd be willing to show clemency if you helped me, even reward you! I would forgive you if you would but help me." Henry begged.

"I am not so foolish as to believe that, now hold out your hands."

Henry obediently did so, and was rewarded with a chunk of cheese and some bread in his hands. Henry stared in slight shock; he was given food without any mind games.

Phillip saw his shock, "Consider it a Christmas gift."

Henry glanced up. Christmas already? It had been that long. It had felt like an age to be sure, but to be held for two months!

Henry hurriedly stuffed his face. The bread was soft and fluffy, and the cheese fairly melted in his mouth. He was careful not to lose a single crumb of the food, but nonetheless he ate quickly, scared that the food would otherwise be taken away.

The man watched in disgust as Henry practically breathed in the food. It was mannerless, barbaric, a primitive disgrace, as if hunger had taken away all civility.

When Henry was done he looked at the man, who grinned widely a wicked glint in his eye. "I have another gift for you. It's just outside the door. Do you want it?"

Henry eyed him suspiciously; he wasn't stupid and knew that whatever this new gift was wouldn't be good for him. He nodded slowly, knowing that whatever it was was unavoidable.

Phillip left the room and returned seconds later holding a hard, wooden chair. He placed it in the centre of the room, and gestured for Henry to take a seat.

Henry slowly sat down on it. It was terribly uncomfortable.

"Well aren't you going to say thank you?" the man asked mockingly.

Henry hesitantly thanked him.

The man smiled wider, "But that isn't all that I have for you."

From behind his back he revealed a long, thick piece of rope and slowly advanced on Henry. Henry stared in horror. They were going to bind him. He was going to be further confined, and on Christmas as well. Did they have no humanity?

As the man approached Henry, he came to his senses. He wasn't going to take it! At the last possible second, he jumped up and hurled a fist at the mans face with all of his strength. The man reeled back, clutching his nose and Henry bolted.

He had barely taken two strides though when the man tackled him from behind, throwing them both to the floor.

"Bu Bastarb," Phillip shouted, punching Henry solidly in the jaw, as Henry withered and kicked and cried out beneath him, "Du blooby, fuckin', bastarb. You broke my nobe."

The door flew open and two men, seeing the commotion came to their comrades' aid. One of them seized Henry roughly and threw him into the chair, pressing down on his shoulders so he could not get up, whilst the other grabbed his feet to prevent him from kicking as Phillip held the rope threateningly.

Henry pulled against the arms but to no avail, as in short order he was bound tightly in place. He couldn't even wriggle and the ropes pulled against his flesh. He glared at the men, but remained silent, as he breathed in and out heavily.

"I albost forgot." Phillip said as he pulled from his pocket a piece of filthy linen.

"He had the dog piss on it earlier." One of the men said gleefully to his friend.

"Oben your mouth." Phillip ordered.

Henry refused, keeping his mouth firmly clenched. No way was he going to be gagged and no way was he going to allow that thing anywhere near his mouth.

But one of the men grabbed his nose preventing him from breathing, whilst grabbing his jaw solidly. Henry couldn't help it. He gasped for breath, and immediately the linen was in his mouth. He tried to spit it out, but the man holding his jaw wouldn't let him, and soon it was tied in place. Henry's eyes watered and he choked on the stench and the taste and he retched behind the gag, but it was no use.

Henry jerked his head back and forth like a madman trying desperately to do anything. The men laughed loudly at the sight and left Henry alone. He slumped forward in his chair in defeat.

* * *

The party in the Boleyn household was in full swing. Music was playing, food was in abundance, there was dancing and the drink flowed freely, yet Thomas More was not enjoying any of it. Truthfully he did not know why he had come. He didn't enjoy this sort of revelry and with his friend and King missing he just wasn't in the celebrating mood.

He had tried to strike up conversations with the Duke of Suffolk, but that had fallen flat as the Duke was strangely distracted. Normally Brandon would be at the centre of this sort of thing even if it was thrown by the Boleyn's, but then it was understandable if Brandon didn't fell like enjoying himself. He had witnessed the Kings kidnapping and so must be doubly upset.

Thomas sighed. He needed to get out of the room. It was stifling and oppressive. He didn't want to be rude by leaving mid party, but perhaps if he just got a bit of fresh air. He left the room, no one noticing his absence.

He wondered the halls in a vague manner looking for the exit, but quickly became confused amidst the similar looking corridors. He had been sure that the exit was in that direction but he must have been mistaken. He wanted to ask someone directions but there was no one around. He turned to retrace his steps.

However before he could move Thomas heard a noise, a strange sort of shuffling sound and he sought out the noise, thinking that it was a person who could lead him to an exit. It was coming from the room on his left. He walked into the room and crossed himself at the sight. His Majesty the King was bound, naked to a chair. He was gagged with soiled underwear stuffed into his mouth. Thomas immediately ran over to untie his liege lord, wondering how Boleyn could dare commit such treason.

"Your Majesty, are you alright?" he asked as he untied the gag. Henry spat the underwear out of his mouth and quickly glanced around the room. Thomas was surprised to notice that Henry was shaking with fear.

"My God, Henry what happened?" his voice shook Henry out of his daze and he stared right into Thomas eyes.

"We've got to get out of here, please before they..." he broke off and Thomas could hear why. There were footsteps approaching on the stairs outside... and the King was still bound and helpless. Henry seemed to realise this too for he turned to Thomas and said "Run Thomas before they find you".

"I'm not leaving you." Thomas whispered fiercely.

"You must, if they find you, they will kill you. If you get out you can bring reinforcements".

"The gag, they'll notice someone's been here".

Henry smiled ruefully, "It wouldn't be my first escape attempt. Go Thomas! Quickly, out the window".

Thomas hesitated, "Harry, my Lord, I cannot leave you to suffer you are my King!"

"Then as your King, I command you to leave!"

Still Thomas delayed, and the footsteps were getting closer. A tear escaped Henry's eye, "Please Thomas. I beg you, please; if they catch you I couldn't live. Please, I beg you run".

The sight of his King begging with tears in his eyes moved him in a way that his orders could not. He grasped Henry quickly on the shoulder, hoping to convey every thought and feeling in that gesture, before turning and stealing out the window.

As he descended he heard the door creaking open, some muffled voices, Henry's loud, defiant command and then finally the sound of flesh hitting flesh.

It took an enormous strength of will to do it, but at last he turned and ran, leaving the King to the mercy of his captors.


	7. In Sickness

AN: A new chapter already, mainly because this one and the next one were mostly written before I even started posting

Disclaimer: I don't own the Tudors. This is because I don't believe in enslaving people.

* * *

Mary sat in her presence chamber, behind her stood the Dukes of Suffolk and Norfolk, and before her was Sir Thomas More. The same Sir Thomas who had just given her what was possibly the greatest news that she had ever heard. He was telling the location of the King.

Mary had not attended the Boleyn's party. She had deemed it inappropriate that she should celebrate whilst her father was in captivity. At least that was what she had told everyone. In fact it was because she did not feel that she would be able to contain her anger and loathing at the man. She was too honest and plain faced. She would not be able to conceal her true feelings, and whilst no one would expect her to like the Boleyn's, the level of her hatred would be telling.

Yet she knew an opportunity when she saw one and so did the Dukes. So her fellow conspirators had attended the Christmas celebrations but when there they had been given no opportunity to look around. They had been watched from entry into the grounds to the time that they left. Not obviously, but the men had felt the eyes on them.

Mary had thought that the time had been wasted, and so had the Dukes. They had resolved to try and start a new plan of planting a spy in the Boleyn household, when Thomas clearly panicked and with news most urgent had requested a private audience.

Mary had consented. Out of everyone in the country, she knew that More was the one person who could never have been involved in any conspiracy against her father. He was perhaps the most loyal and pious man in the Kingdom. Treason would be the most abhorrent word in his vocabulary, and those who committed it would be fit only for condemnation.

Now stood before her, telling of his findings, Mary was filled with such a level of happiness that she thought she could burst. Her father was alive! They knew where he was!

"My Lady, his condition is most bleak." Thomas said gently.

Mary frowned, reminded of her father's tenuous position, "How so?"

Thomas related the state he found the King in, and Mary's anger returned. How dare they so abuse her father? How dare they treat the King in that manner? She swore that they would face the full extent of her wrath, but first...

"How soon can we get him out of there?" She questioned.

"Immediately My Lady. We can not risk them moving His Majesty, but... it can not be any of us to mount the rescue. We will be too obvious and our absence will be noted." Norfolk said, also furious at the report.

"Then who?"

There was a brief silence and then Brandon stepped forward, smiling his first true smile since the Kings kidnapping.

"I know just the man."

* * *

He was sick, he knew he was. He was cold, freezing in fact and he shivered violently. Yet he was red and sweating and he would cough; cough so much and so long that he couldn't breathe. His whole body would jolt with every cough and he would tug against the ropes that permanently adorned his wrists. It hurt so much because every tug would leave angry burns and now they had blistered and become infected and sticky pus oozed beneath the bindings.

He was dying, yet Boleyn refused to fetch neither a physician, nor even a wise woman a witch though she may prove to be. He had been kept alive for so long that Henry had begun to think that Boleyn wanted him alive, needed him alive for some nefarious plot. But now it seemed that all he had wanted was a prolonged death, a slow torture.

It was no wonder he was dying. His once athletic form was starved and wraith like and he had not eaten in days. More he had not been given any clothing and so in the cold weather, his entire body was exposed to every wind and chill and element. He had been beaten and whipped, so that deep welts and coloured bruises marred every inch of his skin. Nothing of him had been spared.

Yet it was not only that, for Boleyn enjoyed playing cruel games to torment the mind as well as the body. He would be given tokens of false kindness, a portion of food, some wine to drink, and Henry would be grateful for those kindnesses, though he hated himself for it.

But those acts were double edged, for every act had a torture behind it. His hands and feet would be chained to the floor and he would be forced to eat like a dog, with Boleyn and whatever men he had with him, watching and taunting him, and when he was done, for he was not so foolish as to turn down the food, they would pat him on the head and call him "good dog", as if he was a well trained pet, who had done something pleasing.

Sometimes they would untie him after he had eaten, and the torture at least for then would be over. But other times they would leave him, for hours or days, and unable to move he would soil himself, and be left to wallow in his own filth and sewage. When Boleyn would at last release him, he would tut at his pet, and then another beating would follow, for dogs could not be left not housebroken.

He would weep at the humiliation heaped upon him, but he would not protest, could not protest. That only made it worse. At the beginning he had tried to escape, he still did try to escape, but his efforts were increasingly half hearted. He was losing the will to live.

Henry struggled to look up as he heard the door creak open. Boleyn was standing there and he wrinkled his nose in disgust as he took in the scent of Henrys unwashed body.

"Here, eat." He said, tossing some bread with a small lump of cheese over to Henry.

Henry wanted to eat, needed to eat. But the sight and smell of the cheese churned his stomach, and he felt utterly nauseous.

Thomas growled, "Eat, or it will be another beating."

Henry slowly reached out and took hold of the bread and cheese and began nibbling at the corners of it. He forced himself to swallow, and then struggled to keep it down. It felt like lead in his stomach.

Satisfied Boleyn sat in the chair he always used when watching Henry. He waited patiently as Henry ate the meagre portion and when he was finished he got up to go.

Henry gathered his courage, "wait," he called.

Thomas paused and turned an inquiring look upon him. Henry swallowed as Boleyn tapped a foot impatiently.

"I thought you wanted me to die? Why are you so concerned about me eating?"

Thomas snorted, "Foolish dog, of course I want you to die. But I want you to die at the time of my choosing. Anne hasn't given birth yet, and I can't produce a body until I know whether it will be Elizabeth or a son who becomes our sovereign".

Henry felt a flash of defiance and spoke without check, "You think Elizabeth will ever be Queen? You think her position strong enough? If I die, then Mary will become Queen, the people will never accept anyone else."

Henry saw a flash of something fall across Thomas's face but he quickly suppressed it and reached out and struck Henry hard, so that he reeled back.

Thomas snarled, "You speak out of turn Dog. In fact dogs shouldn't speak at all. Elizabeth will be Queen and I will be Lord Protector. Do not doubt me in this. You yourself ensured that with your Act of Succession. Or did you forget that you had disowned the bastard Mary?"

"You actually think that people will care about the Act of Succession. In time they would have grown to accept it, but at this point they only signed it out of fear of the block and loyalty to me."

"Do not speak, Dog!" Boleyn shouted, towering over Henry in a rage.

Henry shrank back cowering slightly. He had gone too far, and was now going to pay the price.

But to his relief, Boleyn took a deep breath and calmed down. He smiled at Henry and Henry felt a flicker of fear. "It is no matter, within a month Anne will have given birth to a son, and no one will dispute the inheritance of a boy heir. Within a month, it will all be over and I can at last do away with you. In the mean time..." he glanced around the room, critically taking note of Henry's sick appearance, "I need to ensure you survive long enough. I'll have some tapestries and drapes brought in this room to hang in front of the windows. That should shelter you from the cold a little."

Henry couldn't quite hide the relief he felt from being sheltered from the cold and Boleyn smirked in amusement.

"See I can be a kind and merciful Lord can't I? Actually there's an idea, from now on I want you to call me master."

Henry glared at this new audacity but didn't dare protest it.

"In that case I will be back later. Goodbye Dog."

"Goodbye." Henry said, knowing that Thomas wanted a reply.

"Goodbye what?" Thomas glared.

Henry hesitated just for a second but in the end he gave in, "Goodbye... M... Master."

Thomas smiled, a big Cheshire grin, full of smug self worth and satisfaction. He held out his hand in front of Henry to kiss, and Henry reluctantly kissed his ring.

He then left the room, leaving Henry to wonder if it was actually possible for him to fall any further.

* * *

In his chambers a furious Thomas Boleyn stalked back and forth across the room, before finally in a fit of pique he threw a goblet of wine against the wall, where it fell with a clatter, staining the floor a deep red. He collapsed on the end of his bed. The King wasn't getting any better. In fact he was getting worse. It wasn't supposed to be this way. He was supposed to spend months torturing him and breaking his will before at last killing him when a healthy, secure baby boy was born. But it was too soon. The baby was yet to be born and worse rumours had started at court that the baby was not Henry's and in truth Thomas knew that there wasn't some substance to those rumours.

Damnation, it was all going wrong. Henry wasn't broken yet, weak, submissive but not broken. He still had that spark of defiance. Thomas had thought that it would be easy. Henry had never experienced any real adversity. He was like a spoilt child, everything was catered towards him. Everyone had worshipped the ground he walked on. He never lost at anything he did, for no one would dare beat him. He had never even been struck. Yet his damned pride! He had tried to get rid of that pride, that arrogance that said he was better then anyone else, but it wasn't working. It would in time, but Thomas didn't have that time. He wanted the king to be wholly his before he died.

Henry wasn't the only problem though. He wasn't even the most significant. When Henry had vanished he had counted on Anne becoming Regent. Anne was Queen and could be counted on to obey his orders, but instead she had been sent into seclusion. The court had not wanted to risk the life of a possible male heir by the supposed distress Henry's disappearance could cause. They hadn't even considered the possibility of her ruling. The pressure of government was seen as too much for a woman in her position.

Instead they had summoned the Kings bastard to court to rule as Regent, saying that as the Kings natural daughter and having ruled (at least theoretically) Wales she was the most natural choice of Regent. She was been backed by both the Duke of Suffolk and the Duke of Norfolk, which was very dangerous for Boleyn. With that kind of backing she could become Queen. No one would dispute it. No one could care to dispute it. Norfolk should have been their strongest ally, could have benefited hugely from Anne. Had benefited from Anne but instead, he was throwing his lot in with Mary.

Boleyn gasped, and where would that leave him. The Boleyn's were her declared enemies; hers and her mothers. If she was Queen... but he wouldn't allow that to happen. It couldn't happen. When Anne gave birth to a boy they would be safe. No one would dare question his legitimacy. They wouldn't want to cause a civil war. He just had to be patient.

But it was so hard! Especially with Mary being as clever as she was. If she had made one move wrong, Boleyn could have swept in and removed her from the picture, could have painted her as being the one responsible for her fathers' disappearance. He could have tainted her with the black stroke of treason. Yet she hadn't given the slightest opportunity. She had gone to court, and promptly declared that though she considered herself legitimate and her mothers' marriage valid, her fathers orders were still in effect. Under her orders the court still referred to her as Lady Mary, when they would have been more then happy to call her princess. Her perceived humbleness, and act as a dutiful daughter had made her more powerful then ever. It had won the hearts of the people, who were even calling her the most humble and honourable lady in all of Christendom.

He had tried to get rid of her, sent assassins, and paid to have gossip told. But none of it had worked. No one would believe the rumours, and she had surrounded herself with loyal people, and was never alone. He would get an opportunity, but he wouldn't need one. He wouldn't need one so long as Anne gave birth to a boy.

She had to have a son.


	8. Answered Prayer

AN: Ok yet another chapter out. As a point of reference I have taken several liberties both in this chapter and in the following in relation to the medical knowledge and practices of the time. This is to help the flow of the story so I hope it doesn't subtract anything for all you readers. Anyway...enjoy!

Disclaimer: I can't think of anything interesting to say so I don't own the Tudors and I'm not making any money out of this fiction.

* * *

Anthony Knivert stared at the house from his hidden position in the trees, looking for the window that would identify the Kings prison. Never had he thought that it would be an Englishman who had taken the King. He like everyone else had assumed it was some foreign enemy. No English person would dare commit such treason, and yet someone had.

When Charles had come to Anthony with this information, he had been shocked and horrified. When he found out that it was the Boleyn's and that the Duke had known for months, he had been furious. He had lashed out at Charles, and Brandon had simply taken it. That had calmed down Knivert enough to listen to his explanation; an explanation that had led him out here this night, on the information of Sir Thomas Moore; the information that had made it possible for the King to at last be rescued.

He waited until far into the night, when he could be certain that everyone would be asleep. He then made his way over to the house. He was cautious, though the night was cloudy and the moon and stars were hidden, yet he couldn't risk been spotted. If he was seen, then it wouldn't only be his life on the line, but the Kings.

He eventually made it to the house and scaled a tree to reach the Kings window. It was blocked by a heavy tapestry, which according to Thomas's information had not been there before. But he pushed it aside and jumped through the window.

Immediately his nose was assaulted by a strong stench and he gagged, his eyes watering. But he could see the King. Unclothed and curled on his side, bound and beaten, and Anthony was conflicted with both a sense of pity and of rage. He vowed to have revenge for His Majesty.

Henry heard a shuffling sound, and the rustling of fabric as the tapestry was moved away. He watched in dazed confusion as a man jumped through the window. The confusion turned into disbelief as he recognised the face of the man.

"Anthony?" he rasped, before descending into a coughing fit.

Anthony ran to the Kings side, grasping his hand, and rubbing his back.

"You're here, you're really here. This isn't some strange dream that I'll wake up from."

To Anthony's great distress the King burst into tears, but the King was so relieved. It would be over soon. He would be free!

"Your Majesty please be quiet. You'll be heard."

The King immediately silenced, although Anthony could still see tears streaming down the Kings face. He forced himself to ignore them though and got to work cutting the Kings bindings.

Once he was done he hurled the King to his feet, but to his dismay the King swayed drunkenly, and Anthony had to grab him around the waist to steady him. For the first time, Anthony noticed the sickly pallor to the Kings skin, the black bags that circled his eyes. Beneath the bodily fluids and grime, the King was clammy and sweating, and he shivered despite the heat that radiated from his body.

He gazed at the window. There was no way the King would be able to descend that.

The King noticed his gaze and looked at Anthony. "It's the only way."

"But Sire..." Anthony tried to protest, say that he would fall and break his neck and all would be in vain. But the King had already shrugged off his grip and was taking slow, tentative steps towards the window; the exertion was visible with every step.

"We'll get caught any other way, and I will not be made a prisoner again. If I die doing this, then at least I die a free man, rather then a captive."

Anthony didn't argue further, and together they made their way down the tree. When they at last reached the bottom, Anthony couldn't quite prevent the sigh of relief escaping. The sight of the King shaking, and near to collapse, quickly spurred him into action. He took the Kings weight onto his own, and half dragging, half carrying he led him in the direction of the trees.

"I have a horse, hidden in the trees. He'll get us to safety." Anthony explained.

Henry just nodded, to wary to speak. What felt like an age later, but was really only a few minutes they reached the shelter of the trees and the waiting horse. Anthony assisted the King into the saddle, and then jumped up behind him. He grabbed the Kings waist with one arm and the reigns with the other. The King just lent back into Anthony's arms, grateful for the support and comfort. Then they were off, and quickly the King fell asleep leaving a deeply troubled Anthony to lead the way.

* * *

It was late and Sir John Seymour was waiting in the entrance of his house for some sign of his expected guests. His eyes strained to peer into the distance and at long last he heard the clip clop of a horses hoof. He ran outside holding a candle in his hand just as Anthony Knivert, holding an unconscious King came into sight.

"My God." He swore, crossing himself, as Anthony dismounted.

"Help me get him down," Anthony muttered and John quickly assisted him.

One of Johns sons, Edward came out to help and the King was nestled in his arms, his head resting on his shoulders. Anthony took the saddle rug off the horses back and used it to cover the Kings dignity.

Then John led the way into the silent house, Anthony and Edward following behind. The halls were silent, and empty in the late night. The entire household was asleep.

"You weren't followed, nobody saw you?" John questioned urgently.

Knivert shook his head, "No. I doubt they have even realised that the King is gone yet, but..." he hesitated, "The King is sick. I think he needs a physician."

John nodded sorrowfully, "I feared as much, Thomas," he said looking at another son, who had just appeared, "fetch the physician for His Majesty."

At Anthony's look of confusion he explained, "I anticipated that the King may need medical attention and called ahead, but never in my wildest dreams did I imagine this." He said gesturing to the Kings form.

"Where are we headed?" asked Edward who was struggling to support the Kings weight.

"Jane's room." said John shortly.

"Jane's room? Isn't she your daughter? Why there?" asked Anthony.

"We don't have the man power to defend the King if we are attacked. Our best defence is secrecy and no one would think that we would house a man in our daughters' room. Ah we are here." He said and opened the door to her room.

There Jane was waiting for them, and Edward made to place the King on the bed.

"Wait," she said before he was placed, "He is filthy, and if he is put on that it will dirty the sheets, and that can't be comfortable. Let's clean him up a little first."

The men couldn't argue with her logic, so instead he was placed on a rug, (which John set a reminder to burn later, after seeing the state of the King) in front of the fireplace, which was burning brightly, making the King seem almost translucent in the light. Hot water for a bath was called for and it arrived just as the physician did.

He spent some time examining the King and his conclusions were not unsurprising. He said that the King was suffering from a fever, due to the cold and his injuries and starvation, as well as a consistent lessening of the spirit. He ordered that the King should be fed light meals such as broths so as not to upset the delicate stomach, and should be kept in a warm room. He also ordered that he should be given plenty of rest and care.

He then personally saw to the cleaning of the King, dabbing him gently with a cloth, and wiping away the foul substances that covered his body. He paid particular attention to the welts around his wrist and the whip marks on his back, fearing that they had become infected with evil humours. When he got to the Kings more intimate parts, Jane turned away blushing, although she realised that she had already seen far more of the Kings body then was deemed proper.

When the King was at last completely clean, Edward once again lifted him out of the bath and settled him in front of the fire to dry. He held the King upright so that the physician could get to every part of the Kings body. The physician made quick work of bandaging the King, although when complete he in parts resembled a mummy.

A nightshirt was then brought in for the King and he was quickly dressed in it. It was too big in some places and too small in others, and was truly ill fitting. But it was the best they had and they couldn't continue to leave the King exposed.

He was then laid on the bed and tucked in. It seemed to the gathered people that as soon as he was settled beneath the sheets, a tension left his body and a ghost of a smile passed over his lips. He snuggled into the pillow and the people watched him sleep for a few moments before quietly leaving the room.

When outside the physician spoke, "I will remain of course, until the King is recovered, but I fear that he will need constant care, and attention. I recommend that someone be near by at all times."

The assembled people agreed, and the physician continued, "It may be likely that His Majesty will suffer from nightmares, from his torment, and will regress slightly towards childish behaviours. He may cling to you as his rescuers, but... I hate to say this. You must be firm with His Majesty, it is important that he can resume normal responsibilities as quickly as possible. "

"If the King orders something, I cannot disobey." Anthony protested, and the others concurred.

But the physician argued, "In some respects you are right, the King must get used to having his orders followed and his wishes respected again. But if the King orders something unreasonable, something that a small child might ask of his mother, you must then be firm, but at the same time gentle. For it is likely that the request will be made because of some emotion brought about by his torment. Try and find out why he is requesting that thing that he is."

"You must also be careful around him. I know that none of you would dare raise your voice to him, but he may be scared of loud noises, and sudden movements. He must of course get used to such things, but for now it is more important that he gets used to kindness and loving actions again".

The others agreed to this, and then they all went to bed. Edward Seymour was chosen to stay with the King that night, and a pallet was placed in the corridor outside the room. They then went away and Edward settled into a night of hopefully sound sleep.


	9. Sleepless Night

AN: Hi all, once again another chapter. Again I say that I have only very limited knowledge of trauma and the effects of it. The reactions that Henry shows, both physical and mental I believe are possible when you examine his particular case. Again I make allowances for creativity reasons with some historical facts, and practices.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Tudors.

* * *

Edward was awoken only a few hours later by a cry coming from inside the room. He was immediately on his feet and he threw open the door of the chamber.

He was met with the sight of the King sitting up, sobbing loudly and saying over and over again, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

He immediately realised why as the stench of urine assaulted his senses. The King had wet himself.

He quickly sent for the physician before returning to the Kings side. The King didn't have a history of incontinence. Lord knew that he wouldn't have been able to keep something like that secret from the court. The gossips that did the Kings laundry wouldn't have been able to keep their mouths shut at the news, and the wealthy nobles would have been all too eager to pay for it.

He could only think that the physician had missed something.

He tried to comfort the King but he was inconsolable. He did however manage to get him to move off of the bed and out of his soiled nightshirt.

The physician arrived quickly, but he was unable to get close to the King who did not recognise any of the people in the room. It was only with the arrival of Anthony that the King began to calm.

The physician questioned the King and at first the King refused to answer, as deeply ashamed as he was, but slowly the story was wrangled from him, and Edward listened with increasing rage. It seemed that the King had been subjected to more then just beatings, and the mind game which the King had relived in his dream, and caused him to lose control of himself was something that should not have been subjected to the most debase criminal let alone the King.

The King hesitated, "am I always going to...?" he waved vaguely in the direction of the bed. He blushed in embarrassment, and was unable to voice the end of the sentence. They all understood anyway and Edward found himself listening keenly to the answer the physician gave.

He smiled reassuringly, "No Your Majesty. As your mind learns to distinguish reality from dreams, such events will cease to happen."

The King and Edward both sighed in relief, but the Physician wasn't finished.

"However Your Majesty, until that happens such events are, regrettably likely to reoccur."

The King turned even redder at the thought of his future embarrassment, and Edward felt himself moved to pity. To not be in control of yourself like that, must be mortifying, especially for a man as proud as His Majesty.

"What then? Am I to be swathed in diapers like a babe fresh from his mothers' womb?" Henry muttered resentfully.

The physician looked uneasy, "It may be for the best Your Majesty. At the very least, you should wear them whilst you are sleeping."

The King shook his head, "No!"

"But Your Majesty..."

"I said no. I will not be humiliated in that way." He turned to face Edward. "You what is your name?"

Edward looked puzzled at the sudden turn of conversation. "Edward, Majesty. Edward Seymour."

"And you were sleeping outside the room, waiting to attend on me, should I need it." Henry persisted.

Edward nodded.

"Very well. This is what will happen. Edward will now sleep within the room with me. At any sign of distress, any sign at all. He is to wake me up, to protect his liege lord from further indignity." The King explained.

"But Your Majesty..." the physician protested.

"I will not suffer to be so demeaned. This is my order and it will be followed." The King snapped.

The physician looked ready to argue further, but Edward could see that the Kings mind was made up so he quickly said, "I will be honoured to attend Your Majesty in such a way, but if I may. It is late and we are all tired. Perhaps it will be best for us all to retire for the rest of the night. Your Majesty is unlikely to suffer any further incidents tonight and I can have my pallet brought in in the morning. In the mean time I will send for servants to change Your Majesty's bedding and some hot water so that Your Majesty may be cleaned. If it pleases Your Majesty of course?"

The King agreed and in no time at all, he was nestled back in bed again and sound asleep. Edward also settled back into bed, wondering if he should get used to sleepless nights.

* * *

Thomas Boleyn woke with a start, gasping for breath. He shook his head to clear away the images that had haunted his dreams. They were already fading, yet the feelings they created lingered. A pain like he was been stretched, burning, anger, hate and above all, the icy touch of death. He didn't know what he had dreamed about but fear took him and a feeling of dread encompassed him, a chill creeping up his spine. .

He sat up angrily and threw off his bedcovers. He had no reason to fear, he was at the top of his world. He rolled over trying to get back to sleep, and clenched his eyes shut. He tossed and turned for several minutes but the fear would not leave him, and finally with a sigh he decided to go for a stroll. The walk he decided, would ease his troubled mind.

He got up, his bare feet touching the cold stone and silently left his rooms. The corridors were empty at that time of night and a cool breeze echoed through the halls. He hugged his arms to his side, as he realised just how bitterly cold it was, and suddenly realised that he ought to have put on something over his nightshirt. If not for the cold then for proprieties sake, but it was too late now and no one was going to see him at that time of night.

Aimlessly he wondered, until by sheer chance he ended outside of the room that Henry was kept in. Thomas wondered for a brief moment why his feet had brought him there, but dismissed that thought as irrelevant.

He smirked to himself as a thought hit him. If Thomas couldn't sleep then there was no reason why Henry should be able to. Plus Thomas would enjoy the entertainment that Henry could provide, and perhaps it would take his mind off his fear, and allow him to gain some sleep.

He opened the door.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, Edward was awoken every night by the King. Sometimes he would wake the King in time to prevent his embarrassment, and after attending the King they would go back to bed without incident. But other times he was not quick enough, or was sleeping too deeply. Those times Henry would stand aside, and stare at the ground trying to not to make eye contact. Edward would quickly and efficiently change the bedding with the clean linen that was permanently kept in the room for such an occurrence, and then aid His Majesty in cleaning himself up. He would stay silent through it all, not knowing what he could say to ease the Kings mind, and at the same time unwilling to hurt the Kings already damaged pride.

Yet the King took some comfort from Edward who was always tender in his actions and always gentle in his approach. And though after each incident they would go back to bed without a word, the King was appreciative of the dedication and loyalty that Edward showed both in his actions and in the silence of his tongue. For even as he didn't speak to the King of his bedwetting, he didn't speak to anyone else about it either, keeping the Kings confidence, (although such a thing must be noted, that though he didn't speak of it, It was universally known within the household anyway). So through it all, the King grew close to Edward and learnt to trust him as a dear friend.

This all changed three weeks after the Kings arrival, when Edward woke up, not to the sound of the King whimpering or the disgusting odour of his urine, but rather to the King standing looking pleased with himself over the piss-pot. He grinned broadly as he proudly, like a small child showed off to Edward. Edward despite himself found himself smiling at the King and congratulated him loudly.

In the morning when the physician came like he did every day, he was told of this change.

The King from his vantage point in bed spoke excitedly to the man, "I don't know what changed. I was just dreaming like I always do and suddenly I was able to tell that it wasn't real. Once I realised that it was easy to wake myself up."

The physician beamed at the King, "That's excellent news Your Majesty."

The King nodded with relief, sinking back into the pillows that propped him up, "I'm just glad that it's all over, and I won't have to suffer through that again".

The physician hesitated, something which Henry noticed immediately.

"What? What is it?" he demanded.

"I'm afraid Your Majesty that it isn't over. Whilst I am inordinately pleased that Your Majesty was able to sleep through the night. I am sorry to say that this is only the first step, and that regrettably Your Majesty is likely to continue to lose control when asleep."

At Henry's stricken look he hurriedly continued, "However I am happy to say that such events will happen less and less often, and Your Majesty is on the road to recovery. I didn't want to say this before, but there was a chance that Your Majesty was permanently scarred by your torment and would never relearn control. Last night proved beyond doubt that Your Majesty is on the road to recovery."

Henry still looked distraught and Edward rushed to reassure him, "Isn't that fantastic news Your Majesty?"

"Do not patronise me, Edward. I am not a small child, nor do I enjoy being treated like one. Such lack of control is unseemly in one such as I. How can I return to court, when I am not in control of my own bodily functions? I will be a laughing stock!" Henry snapped.

"That's not true, Your Majesty." Edward protested.

"Isn't it? I've seen the look in your eyes. The pity, the looks you exchange when my back is turned. You attend me yes, and dutifully, but you can't hide your true feelings about my state. The anger you feel as you are forced to replace my dirty linens and clean my defiled body, as if such an act is an indignity to you, rather then to me. You doubt my fitness to rule!" Henry stated resentfully.

Edward gasped in shock, blanching at the Kings accusations. He fell to the floor at the Kings bedside, kneeling in supplication.

"Never," he protested vehemently, "I would never doubt your fitness to rule. You are my Liege Lord and King. When I show anger at changing your bedding, it is not you that the anger is directed. Rather it is to the foul creatures that put Your Majesty to such torment that even now you are suffering the effects. When I show pity, it is only the distress at seeing such a great and noble prince reduced in such a way. If Your Majesty feels slighted by my actions, then please know that everything that I do is out of love and devotion to you. Sire, please, I beg of you, do not doubt my words."

"How can I believe you? How can I trust you?" Henry whispered, and Edward at last understood.

"My Lord, if everything is uncertain in the world know this; in me, you have a faithful servant and friend. In the last few weeks that I have served you I have done so with great mind towards Your Majesty's countenance, and feelings as you dealt with undoubtedly embarrassing setbacks. Perhaps I could have talked or offered comfort in some way, but I deemed that it was Your Majesty's wish that the incidents be left untouched, and so I was silent to spare Your Majesty further hurt. Maybe that was not a wise decision. Maybe if I had talked it would have helped, but I did what I considered best. Your Majesty I never once mocked or ridiculed you, nor did I speak of your incidences to anyone else and Your Majesty, that is the only proof that I can give you."

He turned and took the Kings hand and kissed it, before looking at Henry's face. Henry had tears streaming from his eyes.

"I believe you Edward, but..." he sighed, "It still doesn't solve the problem of returning to court. I cannot return if I am not in control of my functions as that is the sign of a weak will."

"That is utter rot. Your Majesty has the strongest will of anyone I know. Anyone would be suffering the way you are if they had been through such torment. To say otherwise is ridiculous."

The King nodded in agreement to Edwards's assessment but continued ruefully, "But the court won't see it that way. They will only see the incontinence and thus knowing what is said about people who suffer from it, they will assume things about my character. I will not suffer the indignity of people knowing."

The physician interjected, "It is a moot point. Your Majesty is in no fit state to get out of bed, let alone travel. It will be many weeks before you are capable of the physical exertion."

"But when I am able, what then?"

"Your Majesty may very well be cured by then."

"And if I am not!"

The physician shrugged hesitantly, "Then the decision of what to do will be up to Your Majesty. But it is a long way off, and I am hopeful that you will be in full control by that time".

Henry glared at the physician and the physician returned his glare evenly. Henry looked away and began to play with his bed cover. Edward sighed.

"Your Majesty, you _are_ going to recover." He insisted.

Henry smiled, a slight rueful smile, full of bitterness and sorrow. Not a true smile, not one at all, but one of a man who had been to the very edge of the abyss itself and was still lingering at the edge of falling in. Edward saw that smile and felt more worried then other.

"Perhaps my body will, but my mind? No, that is beyond all hope of redemption."


	10. In Healing

AN: I hope you all like this new chapter. I'm on a roll with the updating, but at the rate I am going, I will have this finished within a week, fingers crossed!

Disclaimer: I don't own the Tudors. If I did, I would find a way to give everyone a happy ending.

* * *

If Edward was Henry's constant companion at night then it was Jane who was with him during the day. She took it upon herself to make sure that the King was never left unattended. At the beginning the King slept most of the time, so Jane would sit quietly, working on her sewing and humming quietly to herself. She would sometimes need to rouse the King and then summon one of her brothers or a servant to assist the King in his business. Other times the King slept soundly, but she would have to wake him so that he may eat. At first he was so weak, that he could not lift the spoon to his mouth without shaking and spilling half the broth. He would try, always try with stubborn pride, but he found himself unequal to the task. So Jane would quietly and unassumingly take the spoon from his hand and feed him. As she was doing this Henry would look right past her, as she would continuously bring the food up to his lips. She understood his anger and tried to ease the process for him as much as possible, but the self-hate he felt at his own situation was clear to see.

Yet it wasn't all bad. Sometimes the King would awaken when Jane was humming. She wouldn't notice at first but then she would feel his eyes on her. She would look up and see the King staring at her with a slight up turn of his lips. She would blush and look away, but the King just smiled at her in a secret way, that made Jane feel confused in a way that she had never felt before. But then the King would remember something and his smile would fade, and Jane would see self-reproach and self-loathing in his eyes and the mood would be broken.

Sometimes, early in the morning or before she retired to bed, they would pray together. Henry would pray so fervently that Jane would wonder at what possessed him. His lips would move silently and tears would fall down his face. Jane longed to reach out and wipe them away, but was always conscious of his position. He would then become aware of her presence and he would move to rote prayer, but Jane always wished that he would continue in the way he had, for that she sensed was the more honest way.

Sometimes when the King was awake they would talk together. They would talk of nothing of importance, but instead Jane would talk of the household and growing up, and Henry found himself telling of his own childhood experiences. How he always felt second best to Arthur, that when Arthur had died and he became heir to the throne he had been so scared because he knew he wasn't good enough. How he had come to realise that perhaps he could rule the country. How he had fallen in love and out of love and into love again, only to be betrayed. Then he would grow silent and Jane could tell that he was thinking of all that had been done to him.

And as the King grew in strength and began to wake for longer periods of time, those talks became longer, and soon they were talking of nothing at all, but the most silliest of things and Jane would laugh as would Henry. Jane began to eat her meals with Henry as Henry was once again able to feed himself. Instead of sewing by herself, she would entertain Henry by trying to teach him how to sew. He was hopeless at it, but instead of growing angry as he once might have, he instead would laugh as Jane patiently tried to show him again, before dismissing it as a wasted effort. She would pretend to be annoyed, at the waste of material and the effort it would take to unpick, but Henry could see the glint of humour in her eyes.

The only thing that didn't change was his prayers, as he continued to pray desperately. What he was praying for Jane didn't know and didn't dare ask, sensing that it was a private thing that the King alone should know.

But as he grew in strength so did his frustration at been confined to his bed. He tried to hide it, knowing that it was the best thing for his health, but it all came to a head one day when Jane was setting his lunch tray on his lap. Propped up by his pillows, he had a clear view out the window. He could see the sun shining clearly, without a cloud in the sky. He knew that though it would probably still be cold out that it would be a lovely day for a hunt, or a joust or just a stroll in the garden. His anger reached a boiling point as Jane prattled on about one of the farmers and how good the crop income would be this year, and her horse and the dog that was going to have pups.

With a shout, he hurled the tray off his lap and to the other side of the room. Jane immediately grew silent.

Henry breathed in deeply a few times and shut his eyes, trying to regain control of his temper.

"Just be quiet." He said through clenched jaws.

"My Lord?" Jane questioned.

Henry opened his eyes and looked at Jane. She had a scared expression on her face, and was staring at him in disappointment. Henry felt like a complete bastard. It wasn't Jane's fault that he was confined to the bed. She was only trying to make conversation and he had to go and scare her.

He reached out to take her hand, not realising that it was the first time he had initiated contact since his rescue. He looked her directly in the eye.

"Please, just don't talk about outside anymore." He said.

Jane nodded woodenly, but Henry could see that he had hurt her. She removed his hand from hers and Henry felt a pang of rejection, before realising that he had brought it on himself. Silently, she went across the room and knelt on the floor, her skirts spreading around her. She began to clear the tray, and Henry watched her, trying to think of something to say to ease the tension.

"I'm sorry." He blurted out, and Jane looked up startled.

"Pardon, My Lord?" She asked in confusion.

Henry breathed in deeply and spoke more slowly, "I said, I am sorry. I'm sorry for frightening you, and for shouting and for making a mess, especially since I wasted all that food, which I know you prepare specially for me."

"I understand, sire." She said, but Henry could see that she didn't and Henry felt compelled to make her, to explain what was going on inside his mind.

"No you don't understand. This room..." he said gesturing to the stone walls, "has become like a prison to me. I cannot leave it, and though the guards are a lot kinder then my previous jailers, I am no less trapped. I am no less constricted in my movements."

Jane looked around the room, taking note of the colourful tapestries and comfortable furnishings and Henry could see that she still did not know what he was talking about.

"But Your Majesty, you are only kept in this room for your health and protection." She said reasonably.

"But I long to see the outdoors again, if only for a few minutes. Is that so irrational that my wish can not be granted?" Henry whined.

Jane seemed to consider this for a few moments. She looked first at Henry taking note of his still pale skin and thin frame, his eyes that stared around the room in such sadness and the eyes that constantly strayed towards the window. She watched as his shoulders slumped forward and a look of defeat entered his features as he realised that he would not be allowed to leave.

Not be allowed to...what was she thinking? The King was the King; it was not for her to decide what he could and could not do. If he wanted to leave the room, then it was her duty to assist him, not constrain his movements...but what of his safety? What of his health? Surely the physician had good reason to order bed rest for the King?

She hesitated. Could she really endanger the Kings life for his whims? Was this what the physician had meant when he said be firm with him?

The King sighed loudly, and Jane looked at him. No this was not what the physician had meant. He could not have meant for her to ignore the Kings happiness, when he was so close to wasting away from his depression.

She hardened her heart and straightened her shoulders. Physician or no physician, she would obey her Kings commands, as any loyal subject ought to do.

* * *

Once the King was dressed in garb appropriate for the outdoors, and had a thick, heavy cloak draped over his shoulders to shelter him from the cold, the two made their way outside. The King walked slowly and rested his hand on Jane's arm for support. Yet the outdoors clearly did him a world of good, as the Kings skin flushed in the breeze. His hair, which was still very short since Boleyn had forcibly shaved him, was windswept, and he smiled more freely then he had done in months.

They walked towards the nearest farm, before Jane sensed that the King was beginning to grow tired and so they turned back. They had to stop several times as the King caught his breath. He would sit on the dirt, unmindful of the clothes that were getting muddy and dusty and Jane would sit next to him. She pointed out all sorts of flowers that would grow when spring came and how she particularly liked the Lady's fingers, a pretty yellow plant that grew there. She also talked of the Ragwort that the farmers had to constantly cut away or else risk the cattle's health.

Then they would continue, Henry wiping away the mud on his hose, not caring as he succeeded only in spreading the dirt even more. Jane would laugh and they walked together looking for the entire world like a man who was courting his lady.

Unnoticed by them was a man who watched their every move. After they were out of sight, and back inside the house, he left. He had news to report for his master.


	11. In trickery

AN: My longest chapter yet. Anyway I apologies if I answered any reviews twice. I got all confused by the new review respond system, ;). Enjoy this new chapter.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Tudors and am not making any money out of them.

* * *

"Sir John, Sir John!" a voice shouted urgently from the entrance of their home.

Jane and Edward Seymour exchanged glances from where they had been talking and hurried to the man. It was their gardener George. He was panting heavily and looked like he had run a great distance. As soon as he saw them a look of relief passed over his features and he ran over to them.

"Thank God your here." He said quickly, "On the road...I just saw it..."

"Calm down man, and explain properly." Edward said to the gardener.

George took a deep, recovering breath and spoke clearly, "I just saw Boleyn's man, Robin Darlin of Rochford. He is coming in this direction, with men on horseback behind him."

Jane took a step backwards, swaying slightly, and Edward quickly grabbed her arm to steady her. Boleyn was coming here. They knew about the King!

"Snap out of it Sister. This is no time for you to panic. You, George, how far away are they?" Edward commanded.

"Not ten minutes away, master."

Edward swore and Jane instinctively crossed herself, "Not enough time. Right, George go find my father and tell him everything. Jane go and get the King. I'll stall for time."

Jane nodded her head and ran upstairs. On the way she ran into two servants, two older women who had served her family since she was a little girl, Marge and Rosa. She ordered them to follow her, and ran into the Kings room not even bothering to knock.

The King looked up as the door swung open with a bang. He was sitting in a bath tub as was his habit after one of his more difficult nights. Thomas was standing in attendance over him, and when the door was opened, he immediately moved in front of the King to shield him from view.

"Jane what do you think you are doing?" He snapped at her.

Jane ignored him, and for once didn't pay any heed to the impropriety of the situation, although she could hear Marge and Rosa trying to stifle their giggles. She looked directly at the King, who was vainly trying to cover his nakedness.

"Your Majesty, Boleyn is on the road. He will be here within minutes."

Henry stopped his fidgeting and he snapped in her direction, his eyes widened in fear.

"What?" he breathed.

"Your Majesty we have to ru..." She trailed off as the sound of hoof beats and the whinny of horses entered her hearing. She ran to the window and looked outside. There, men bearing the livery of the Boleyn's were dismounting their horses.

Henry also hearing the noises rose from the tub and went to see for himself. Without even thinking, Thomas ran over and pulled him out of sight of the window, manhandling the Kings person.

"Don't if they see you, it will all be for naught."

But Henry was trembling with fear, and couldn't listen to Thomas. He fell to his knees and Jane rushed to his side, pulling him into a hug. The King continued to shake.

They couldn't run, all they could do was find a way to hide the King. Suddenly an idea popped into her head.

"Thomas, go and buy us some time. I have an idea."

Thomas looked incredulously down at her, as she held the distraught King. She sent an imploring look up at him. He hesitated, before nodding his head once and leaving the room.

Jane lifted the Kings head up gently with her fingers and looked directly into his eyes.

"My Lord," she spoke softly, "I have an idea, but I will need you to do exactly what I say."

Henry searched her eyes, before slowly he nodded his head. Jane smiled grimly. She could only pray that her idea would work or else it wouldn't just be the Kings life on the line.

* * *

Edward and John Seymour stepped outside just as the men began to dismount. Robin of Rochford smirked and headed over to them, offering what he hoped was a sincere bow.

"Sir John Seymour, a pleasure to see you, and this is your son Edward?"

Sir John replied, "Yes, although I don't think I recognise you." He said pointedly.

"My most sincere apologies. My name is Robin Darlin. My master, the Earl of Wiltshire sends his apologies for the intrusion on your property." Robin said with another courteous bow, which actually came across as rather mocking.

John exchanged a look with Edward, "and what, may I ask is the reason for the intrusion?"

"A poacher, Sir John, who was caught stealing from my master's land, was spotted in this area. We wish to inspect the properties to see if he is hiding. He is a wily fellow, very tricky. Why he might be hiding in your own home, and you wouldn't even know it."

John affected a look of indifference whilst inside he was seething with anger. This man knew exactly what he was saying, and also knew that John had no choice but to allow him to carry out his inspection. If he refused, then Robin could just force his way inside and would know for sure that John was hiding something. If he accepted then he was aiding the chance of the King being captured.

Before, he could say anything though Thomas stepped outside and caught his father's eye. He relaxed ever so slightly. John knew that Thomas wouldn't have left the Kings side without knowing that he was protected. He would follow Thomas's lead in this. He let them inside.

* * *

"And this is my daughter Jane's room. I think it will be fair to say that we can leave this room out of the inspection." Sir John said to Robin.

Robin glared suspiciously at the door, before turning to raise an eyebrow at Seymour, "My orders were to inspect all the rooms."

Sir John drew himself up with apparent anger, when inside he was panicking, "Are you suggesting that I let you into my daughter's _private _chamber?"

"Surely if you have nothing to hide it will not be a problem?"

John moved to stand in front of the door protectively, "I will not have you impugn on my daughters honour like that. We shall move on."

Robin grew impatient and without even responding he brushed past Sir John and threw open the door. He was met with a sight he most emphatically did not expect to see.

Two of the women were innocently enough changing the bedding. However their mistress was caught with one foot in a tub filled with water, naked as the day she was born. Rosa let out a shriek of outrage, as Jane flushed a terrific pink colour as she tried to cover herself. Robin thought it was a deliciously seductive movement, and licked his lips slightly. However with one swift move both maids held a bed sheet in front of Jane, covering her from head to toe.

He then found himself been forcible dragged from the room by a furious John Seymour.

"How dare you? I have never been so insulted in all my life? You...You."

Robin let John rage, his mind on other things entirely. That alluring body! Those gorgeous curves and smooth contours of her creamy flesh. The delightful way she had blushed so prettily. She was utterly enticing. He had to have her. Anne just couldn't compare. She was all act and no substance, and if it wasn't for the power that she could grant him, he wouldn't be with her at all. She was dominating too in every action and Robin hated to be controlled. Once he was married to her and secure he would take Jane as his mistress. She was innocent now, but he wanted to take that innocence and claim her as his own. He wanted to make her cry out and shiver at his touch. He wanted to feel those soft lips on his own, and taste her sweetness. He wanted to own her.

And he would, just as soon as he found the King.

* * *

Inside the room, Jane breathed a sigh of relief as the door closed behind them. Behind the sheet and hidden from view Henry emerged from underneath the water with a gasp, taking in a lungful of air. His chest heaved slightly, and little droplets of water fell, leaving glistening tracks on his skin.

He quickly got out of the now cold water, and went to the other side of the room. He no longer cared for immodesty as all the people in the room had seen him completely bare, and he couldn't bring himself to be embarrassed about it. He sat in front of the burning fire allowing the heat to dry him, and stared into the flickering flames. His whole body shook with suppressed emotion. He had been so close to imprisonment or even death. If Jane hadn't been so quick thinking...

Unwittingly he turned to look at Jane, before turning away in embarrassment as Jane was still completely unclothed. She didn't see him look, but Henry felt himself burn with shame, both at having looked at Jane when she had trusted him not to, and because he had found her so beautiful, when he knew himself to be so unworthy of her affections.

His embarrassment only increased when he realised that though his mind knew to be ashamed, his body clearly did not. He shifted trying to hide it from view, but it was a futile effort. He only hoped that Jane and the other women wouldn't notice.

He was in partial luck as Jane clearly had enough decorum to keep her eyes firmly on the Kings face, and not stray to any other part of his anatomy. The maids were another story as they had no such restraint. He could only hope that they would not gossip about it, although he knew that the chances of that happening were practically non-existent.

Once dressed again, Jane turned to look at the King. He was sat on a rug, his knees pulled up to his chest in front of the fire. He was flushed bright red, and trembling slightly in suppressed emotion. Jane dismissed the maids to the other side of the room. They could not leave whilst Robin was in the house, but she wanted them to give her and the King a bit of privacy.

Henry saw out of the corner of his eye, Jane kneel next to him. He shuddered slightly at her closeness.

"Are you alright Your Majesty?" she said quietly, worry inflected in her voice.

"I'm fine." He said, struggling to keep his voice at a normal pitch. By the muffled snicker from Marge, he could tell just how successful he was at that.

Jane glanced worriedly at him. It was worse then she thought. The King was clearly shaken and terrified. He was clearly in need of comfort. She reached out and hugged him, ignoring his nakedness in favour of easing his mind.

Oh God! She was hugging him. He could feel her body pressed against his. There were only a few items of clothing between her flesh and his. He tried so hard not to react to it. He shuddered again.

The King was clearly struggling not to cry, but Jane could tell he needed the release, needed to let out his emotion.

"It's alright," Jane crooned, "let it all out."

As her soft voice whispered in his ear, he couldn't take it anymore. He quickly stood up, pushing Jane away and stalked to the other side of the room.

"My God, woman. Do you not know what you do to me?"

From her kneeling position on the floor, Jane had for the first time a clear view of what exactly she did to him. She quickly turned her head away, and blushed with embarrassment. The King was also completely mortified as he saw her notice his reaction.

There was an awkward silence as the two looked determinedly away from each other, only broken when a snicker escaped from Rosa's mouth. Henry turned to glare at her, and she in turn sent a flirtatious smile at him, pointedly eyeing him up and down, lingering on his lower half. Henry turned away embarrassed.

"Turn around at once!" Jane snapped.

Rosa looked at her in confusion.

"It is not for someone such as you to ogle the Kings body. Turn around at once. You as well Marge. I do not wish you to be tempted to gaze upon the Kings person."

The two reluctantly turned to face the wall.

"I apologies Majesty, for my servants actions and for causing Your Majesty discomfiture. I will just face the wall for the rest of my time here, so Your Majesty may have some privacy. "

She turned around, and they spent the rest of the time in awkward silence.

* * *

Later that day when, Sir John had finally rid himself of Boleyn's men, everyone convened in Henrys room. Henry was once again encased amongst pillows, and was determinedly looking anywhere but at Jane. For her part, Jane was avoiding looking at him as well.

"Your position here, Your Majesty, is no longer safe. It is only a matter of time before Boleyn realises he has been tricked. I must only wonder how they knew you were here. I suspect a spy in the household, although I thought that all within were loyal to me."

Jane gave a little gasp, "Oh, I am such a fool."

All of the eyes turned to look at her, "I gave Your Majesty away. I betrayed your position."

Anthony Knivert stared at her, "Speak quickly girl. What do you mean?"

"I mean, if I hadn't taken His Majesty outside, then we wouldn't have been spotted. It's all my fault."

"You took the King outside? What were you thinking?" John said angrily.

"It's not her fault. I asked her to." Henry said, twirling the bed sheet between his fingers. Jane shot him a grateful look.

The men stared at each other. Whilst they could certainly tell Jane off for being so foolish, they couldn't very well berate the King, although they couldn't help but feel a flash of anger at his mistake.

"Why?" Sir John breathed, "Why did you endanger yourself like that?"

Henry looked directly at him, "Why? Because I was sick of the inside, sick to death of being constrained. I wanted to actually be free in truth instead of just in theory. I wanted to feel the cold air on my face, to feel the dirt of the ground beneath my feet. See the farms and their farmers and know that though I was ill, my country was still strong and beautiful. I wanted to know that there was still goodness and life and happiness. I wanted to see England!"

The men once again exchanged glances, they understood him. Truly they understood his frustration, but surely that wasn't worth his life?

Henry noticed their glances and felt a flash of irritation. They did not have the right to berate him. He was the King, if he wanted to go out then it was his right to, and no one could tell him otherwise. Consequences be damned. But then he thought that it wouldn't just be him who was affected by his actions and his anger left him. He looked at the sheets again.

"I'm sorry. Maybe it was silly of me, but I so needed to..." he trailed off.

Damn, the men thought. They had seen the Kings irritation, his anger at been berated. It had been so close to his old self, his old strength, but then the King had closed in on himself again, leaving but a shadow of his former glory.

Sir John sighed, "It is no matter. What's done is done; we now need to decide what actions we must take."

After a moments pause, Anthony spoke up. "I propose that the King goes to Norfolk's estate where he will be safe."

Before anyone else could answer the physician spoke up, "Absolutely not! The King is in no condition to make the journey!"

Henry felt another flash of irritation and this time he did not suppress it, "The King can make up his own mind about what he can and can not do _sir_."

The physician hurriedly bowed his head, "Absolutely Your Majesty. I did not mean to insinuate that you were incapable of making decisions. I merely meant that as Your Majesty's physician, I strongly advise against it. Your Majesty is still not recovered from your illness, not to mention that you are still suffering from...err... nightly incidences."

Henry felt his cheeks burn at the physician's reminder and glanced towards Jane. Jane made no motion of acknowledgement.

Sir John spoke up, "Whether His Majesty is physically capable or not, no longer matters. If he does not leave then he and everyone in this house will die!"

That sobered everyone up and Henry sighed, "Sir John is right. I will have to leave. I cannot risk discovery and my position here is compromised. I will have to find a way to make it."

Sir Anthony nodded in acknowledgement and stood up. He bowed towards Henry and said, "With Your Majesty's permission, I will ride to Norfolk at once and warn him of your impending arrival."

Henry granted his permission and Sir Anthony left on his errand.

"Now how are we going to get to Norfolk?" Thomas wondered out loud.

Edward thought for a moment before speaking, "I suggest that we leave in secret tonight. Thomas and I will escort His Majesty. We can not risk taking more men then that. A large travelling party will attract attention, where a couple of men might not."

The others nodded in agreement. "What excuse will we give for leaving? After all people talk." John asked.

They thought for a few seconds before Thomas hesitantly said, "Jane can be our excuse."

"Huh!" she said eloquently.

He continued, growing in confidence as he spoke, "No one would suspect anything if it was something scandalous that Jane did. Spread a rumour, that ordinarily we wouldn't want getting out. Say Jane ran off with a man, and that we her brothers were sent after her before she damaged her reputation any further."

"No...I can't... my prospects..." Jane spluttered, trying to think of an excuse. The story ran true close to home, if her growing feelings for Henry were any indication.

But Sir John was nodding his head in agreement, "Yes, I can see it working. I think that the plan will work."

But Jane continued to protest, "But what about my chances at marriage. They will be ruined."

Henry spoke up from his bed, "Do you think that I will not defend your dignity. By the end of it all, every man and woman in the Kingdom will be singing your name in praise, the woman who was willing to sacrifice everything for her King." _The woman that if he could, he would make Queen_, he thought to himself, and was shocked to realise just how true that statement was.

Jane looked at Henry for the first time that evening and slowly bowed her head, "If it is My Lords command."

John clapped his hands together, "Right It is settled. Your Majesty I suggest you get some more sleep as you will need all the energy for when we set off tonight. Thomas, Edward, make provisions for tonight. Physician, attend the King whilst he is sleeping. Jane, meet me in the courtyard in a few minutes."

With that he bowed towards the King and swept out the room. The others followed behind him, and the King closed his eyes and fell into a deep slumber.

* * *

Jane met her father in the courtyard as ordered and was surprised to see her father standing with a couple of swords and bow and arrow by his feet. He saw Jane's confused look and explained.

"If you are going to escort the King then it stands to reason that you must also be expected to defend the King."

Jane picked up a sword and examined it with interest, "Won't His Majesty be upset to be protected by a woman?"

John snorted, "Most certainly, but as things stand His Majesty is weaker then a kitten and will barely be able to lift a weapon, let alone defend himself, thus it stands to reason that his protection must fall to others, even someone as unlikely as a woman."

"I don't know the first thing about sword play." Jane said logically.

"And I don't expect to make you into a sword master in a matter of hours. Nor, am I so foolish as to try. What I am going to do is to teach is a basic block and strike. Your main job will be to buy enough time for the King to escape to safety."

Sir John spent the next while teaching her very basic sword technique. He made her practice the movement over and over again, until at last he called a halt to the practice. Jane sighed with relief as she put down the heavy sword. Her arms were aching, unused to the movements and sick of the repetition.

John then handed her a bow and arrow.

"Since you already know how to use a bow and arrow, this will be your primary weapon. The trick will be teaching you where to strike in order to kill a man."

Jane gulped and paled at the thought. John sighed, "Don't look like that sweetheart. You know that if you are attacked you will need to kill."

Jane nodded weakly and squared her shoulders. John nodded in satisfaction.

"Right, if the man is wearing no armour then your job is easy. Aim for the heart or head. Hit either of those places and the man is dead instantly. The neck will similarly incapacitate the man. If you hit the stomach the man will still most likely die, but he may hold on enough to do some damage. If you hit the legs or arms then the man will be able to fight on, provided he can stomach a little pain. Best aim for the heart, it's the easiest target."

Jane nodded, turning a sickly, green colour at the thought. John continued on.

"Now if the attackers are wearing armour, then it is a little trickier. You aim directly for the head or chest and the arrow won't penetrate. You need to aim for the weak points in the armour. The joints and underarms are the most obvious examples. Understand though that if you are up against armour, your chances of survival are even slimmer then normal."

Jane's head was swimming as she tried to make sense of all the information, "What if they are on horseback?"

John smirked, "Kill the horse, and pray they get crushed underneath its weight."

Jane nodded again.

"Now let's see your technique, aim for that tree over there."

Jane grabbed a bow and arrow and notched it. She let loose and it landed with a thump against the tree.

John nodded in satisfaction, "Not bad, but you need to be faster. Try again."

Jane once again grabbed an arrow. She took careful aim before releasing.

The two of them watched as the arrow soared through the air, and landed in the exact same spot as the previous arrow, splitting it in half.

Jane stared in shock and turned to look at her father. Sir John was smiling in an odd sort of way, as he looked at Jane and the arrow and the bow held loosely in her hand.

"Well," he said, "that was unexpected. I think you will do very well. I think you will do very well indeed."


	12. In Love

AN: Hi everyone, I am sorry for you all having to wait so long for this chapter. The good news is that I am back now from my travels and hopefully my writing has improved in my time away. I certainly was inspired at least whilst I was gone. Anyway, I intended to put a lot more in this chapter, but it sort of wrote itself and seemed a good place to stop. I hope you all enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Tudors, and I am not making any money out of this fanfiction.

* * *

Night fell sooner then they would have wished and with it came a fog that hung close to the ground in a swirling, hazy pattern. It was ominous to look at and dangerous to ride in, but useful. Their departure in the fog could not be marked. When the last light had disappeared they convened in the stables. The horses were already tacked and ready to go and everyone was bundled up warmly to protect from the chill air. Thomas entered the stables carrying several bags of provisions, which he attached to the horses. Henry quickly noticed that there were only three horses prepared.

"The illusion must stand," Edward explained, when Henry asked, "Jane has run off and her brothers have gone after her, so only three horses should be missing. If there is a spy then we have given nothing away."

Henry nodded in satisfaction, and Edward smiled slightly when he had turned away. He hadn't lied per say, but neither had he told the whole truth. Whilst they certainly didn't want to give anything away to a spy, the real reason for only three horses was that they were quite certain that Henry didn't have the strength to handle a horse.

Jane was the last to arrive, accompanied by her father and dressed in simple clothes, but with a long hooded cloak, lined with fur, dark as she was fair. Like the others, she was armed with sword at her waist and bow at her back. Framed in the stable doors, with the mist at her feet and the moonlight at her back, Henry had the faint vision of an otherworldly beauty, and his heart caught in his throat. Then she stepped fully into the stables and the image was broken.

Before Jane could join the others, John led her to the side of the stable and spoke to her in a soft voice that the others couldn't hear. Whatever was said was obviously private, as Jane took her fathers hand and kissed it gently, a small, sad smile on her face, which was mirrored by her fathers. Jane whispered something, and John leant forward and kissed the top of her head in blessing, before taking her by the arm and leading her to the others. There they bowed formally towards Henry and John said, "I am giving my daughter into your safety and keeping Your Majesty. Please look after her."

Henry took Jane by the hand and said without taking his eyes off of her, "With my life I will protect her."

There was a slight gasp at that declaration and Jane shook her head sadly, "No Your Majesty. I will protect you with my life, if that be what I must do."

Then a look of determination crossed her face. She squared her shoulders, straightened her back and stared almost in defiance and Henry who was about to protest fell silent and Jane said, "I am expendable, but you are the King, my dread and sovereign lord. You are not expendable. If any of us should die in your defence, then we would consider it a sacrifice worth giving, though we would mourn most terribly."

Edward, who had been listening then came forward and put a hand on Henry's shoulder, making him jump slightly in surprise, so transfixed had he been on Jane.

"My sister is right Your Majesty." He said gravely, before grinning, "I thought you would have learnt by now that there isn't anything that we would not do for you."

Henry found that he was smiling as well. The danger was great and he was sneaking off into the night like a criminal, but instead of being sad or angry, he realised he was surrounded by the closest friends and most loyal of subjects and he couldn't have been gladder for that fact. This family at least didn't support him for his riches or power. They couldn't have, for he had come to them naked and alone in need of their charity and still they treated him like the King he was. Suddenly he wanted to reward them and honour them. He didn't want to wait. Their bravery and loyalty, their willingness to give all should be recognized and if he did not live then he wanted to make sure they were recognised.

His mind made up he turned solemn and said to them, "Kneel, all of you."

Without hesitation they all knelt before him and Henry drew his sword, heavy in his weak hands though it was. He approached Edward first. Edward for his part, had widened his eyes in shock as he realised what Henry was about to do.

Touching it to both shoulders he said clearly, "I dub thee, Sir Edward. Rise and be recognised Sir Edward."

Then, once Edward had stood he kissed him on the head, and embraced him like a brother before repeating the process with Thomas.

Then he approached Jane and hesitated. He wanted to honour her, the same way he had honoured her brothers, but it was unprecedented for a woman to be knighted. Then he shrugged off the worry. He had made Anne a peer in her own right for no reason at all but false (or at least on her part) love. Jane had more then shown her honour and bravery and revealed in abundance many knightly virtues. She may have had the weak and feeble body of a woman, but she deserved to be honoured no less then a man. She deserved to be honoured even more then a man in fact, because her actions were so against the nature of her sex, so against her own gentle nature.

He once again raised his sword and said gently, "I dub thee, Sir Jane. Rise and be recognised Sir Jane."

Then he moved to kiss her on the head as well, but changed his mind part way and instead captured her lips in his own in a searing Kiss.

When they parted, Jane seemed both giddy and astonished. She looked like she didn't quite no what to do with herself. Henry smiled in satisfaction, before moving on to Sir John, leaving Jane standing there, still in shock.

John who had been staring between Jane and the King in disbelief brought himself back to reality as the King approached.

"I am in your debt Sir John."

John was greatly distressed by this statement. The idea of the King being indebted to him was positively abhorrent and he denied it vehemently, "No Your Majesty. It is I who am in your debt, for the tribute you pay my children."

Henry smiled and then did something completely beneath his dignity. To the Seymours' horror he knelt before John.

Sir John immediately fell to his own knees, as did his children, "Please Your Majesty, I beseech you, do not kneel before your unworthy servant."

But Henry shook his head and smiled, "Your Grace," and there was anther gasp of breath at the promotion in rank, "I kneel before you not as a King, but as a humble petitioner. I realise that I have fallen in love with your daughter, and though I am defiled..."

"No your not, Your Majesty!"

"...and unworthy of her, still I would ask your permission to seek your daughters hand in marriage."

There was shocked silence and Henry who had begun to feel rather foolish, realised with dismay that John was going to say no, that he really was to lowly to be considered for his perfect daughter. They were going to laugh at him and cast him out defenceless for daring to presume himself worthy of her. He didn't dare look at their faces or else he would have seen the complete falsehood of his assumptions.

Sir John looked at his kneeling King in befuddled shock. He was not blind to the Kings growing affections, or his daughter returning them, but never did he think that the King would propose marriage. At most he thought the King would seek to make her his mistress. Then the physician's words sprung back to him,

"_He may cling to you as his rescuers."_

Was this it then? Were the Kings affections just a product of his torture? Was it just a fleeting emotion that would vanish with the right care and affections? He was reminded that the king was still sickly and weak, still suffered from nightmares. It was entirely plausible that he was in love with Jane as a nursemaid and companion, but once he was recovered he would tire of her and resent her. He needed to make sure.

"Your Majesty." He began hesitantly. Henrys heart sank as he realised that the hesitance was because the newly created Duke didn't want to hurt his feelings.

"I am most grateful for the honour you show me and my family..." here it comes Henry thought, the rejection.

"...and though I wouldn't dream of turning down Your Majesty, as no other would be more worthy of her then such a gracious prince." He threw in that as a bit of reinforcement. He was very aware of how fragile the Kings ego was.

He hesitated again, "I have to wonder how real Your Majesty's affections are."

Henry choked back a sob. They thought he was so inconstant as to forget about his love, forget about her.

John could see Henry's mood changing and quickly continued, "It's just..." he decided on brute honesty, "...Your Majesty has just been rescued from months without any sort of kindness and before that the false kindness of the treasonous Queen. Your emotions are in tatters, and it's possible that you would have felt the same way about any woman who showed you any amount of kindness at all, whether she is my Jane or a toothless hag."

Henry drew back at the accusations, suddenly angry. He would not have... he loved Jane. But something in the back of his mind whispered that he loved Katherine and Anne as well. It was enough to make him consider Johns words. He realised that he had loved Katherine in truth, at least in the beginning. But constant disappointments and the betrayal of her nephew Charles had soured the relationship. Yet he had still loved her a little, never able to forget the image of the young, Spanish princess who had first arrived in England. He had loved her even as he had banished her, and he had regretted banishing her. But he had been convinced that his marriage had been cursed, had been invalid, and he needed to secure the new _legitimate_ marriage.

He cursed at the thought. He realised now that even if the marriage was cursed, then his treatment of Katherine and his Mary had been abhorrent. That Katherine had ever been a faithful, kind and strong Queen and Mary a wonderful daughter who should never have been made to serve her half sister. He had the sudden thought that maybe the marriage had been valid, maybe he was been punished for some other misdeed. The words of Exodus came into his mind,

_Thou shalt not commit adultery_

He had committed adultery many times treating it as his right as King to take mistresses, but he had forgotten that he was still answerable to God. He had forgotten that lust was still a sin, and forgotten the heartache his acts must of caused to Katherine. He knew that many men took mistresses with no problem, but perhaps as King he was being held more accountable then them. After all, he was divine, an example of all that men should aspire to be, so he should be more virtuous and noble then them, and if he was not then surely God would wish him to change his ways.

He turned away from those thoughts and examined his love for Anne. Again he had loved Anne, but in an entirely different way to his love for Katherine. Where Katherine had been a constant love, Anne had been fiery passion. She was youthful, intelligent and so mysterious. He had never understood her and had loved her for it. He had also loved the vision that she presented, that of a stable future and an heir. He didn't love her now. Now he feared and hated her. He feared the intelligence that had enraptured and then betrayed him. He feared the danger her mysterious ways had hidden. He feared that if he ever trusted her again, if he forgave her, then she would use the opportunity to stab him in his open heart. He would never forgive her though. He couldn't. Her image haunted his dreams as surely as the face of her father did.

He finally turned his thoughts to Jane. Jane was kind like Katherine and an open book. She held no mystery for Henry but he was fascinated with her all the same. She took such pleasure in all the simplest things and looked upon him so tenderly that Henry could not help but look kindly on her. She was radiant, fair in a way of innocence, and she laughed and sung so prettily but... he was not blind to her faults. She was intelligent in her own way though she had nothing on either Katherine of Anne and she was naive to the ways of court. She would be completely unprepared for the intrigue that would surround her. Her gentleness would be taken advantage of but...

He looked at Jane, kneeling solemnly with sword and arrow, like a warrior queen, like Boudicca the Celt Queen who fought the Romans and united a people in a common cause; she had the strength to withstand their machinations. She did not need intelligence but instead compassion, which she had in abundance. Henry realised that Jane was exactly the sort of companion he needed and would love. At the moment he was sick and weak, though he hated to admit it and Jane would nurse him, but when he was well again she would give him room to stand on his own and her silent strength would lend him support. She had seen him at his worse and lowest points. She knew all that he had suffered, and all of the indignities that he still endured and still she loved him. Henry knew that he did love her in truth, and that he would continue to love her. Nothing would change that.

He looked at John and smiled, "Your Grace, I love your daughter, not because she rescued me from physical torment, but because she has rescued and continues to rescue me from the torments of my mind. She has reminded me of what it is that I loved most in life, my happiest childhood memories, and then she gave me a future. She gave me the fresh morning air, and the grass beneath my feet and the simple folk with their simple lives and she gave me a sense of spring and the renewal of life. She is... not perfect, but even her flaws I love, for they make me feel almost worthy of her. She is incredible, and I would know this even without my torture. John, I love her."

As he was speaking he had turned to look at Jane and he could see her blushing heavily, but also smiling in a strangely pleased sort of way.

John saw the look and finally relented, "Your Majesty, I believe you. You have honoured my family far more then we deserve but even were you not the King, I could not refuse my daughter her happiness. You have my permission."

The King smiled so radiantly and his entire face lit up. He engulfed John in a hug and said into his ear, "Thank You. Thank you so much."

John smiled as well, "It is I who should be thanking you, Your Majesty." Then he joked, "But you will forgive me if the dowry is not up to your standards."

The King laughed loudly, and jumped to his feet. He dashed over to Jane and raised her gently, before pulling her into a passionate kiss. This time Jane was not so surprised and she laughed after it ended, before leaning in and kissing him, this time much to his astonishment.

"I take it you accept my proposal then?" he joked.

"With all my heart Your Majesty." Then she paused, "though I hope we will be able to have it soon."

"As soon as I am restored, My Lady." He responded, then sobered at the reminder of their position.

The stables quietened down and the gaiety gave way to a subtle danger.

"We had best be off, My Lord." Jane whispered, disentangling herself from the embrace.

"Yes, we must."

They quickly mounted their horses, Thomas aiding Jane into a saddle, whilst Edward aided the King. Edward would be riding with the King as Jane was not strong enough to support him if needed.

Once they were all mounted, Henry turned towards John who was standing solemnly to the side.

"Ride safely Your Majesty. May the Lord keep you safe."

Henry stared silently at John for a minute before slowly bowing his head in thanks.

Then, the four of them silently left the stables and galloped off into the night.


	13. To Travel

AN: Sorry for the wait. My only excuse is writers block. I'm still not happy with this chapter, although I suppose it is the best it is going to get. I hope you enjoy it anyway. Any feedback on this chapter in particular will be very useful, as it was one I struggled with.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Tudors. I don't make any money out of this. It is purely for my own enjoyment and that of my readers.

* * *

It was early February when the group set off. The King had been safely kept hidden in the Seymour household for just under a month and so they had missed most of the harshest winter weather. That did not make February easy to travel in. The wind still carried the harsh chill of Russia and sunk through the clothes and into the skin itself so that they could not be properly warmed. The ground was hard from frost and the trees were mainly bare, giving little shelter. Big game was scarce to come by, so that they had to make do with what small game they could trap when they stopped for short periods of time. They mainly caught Wood Mice. The nocturnal nature of the creatures meant that they were normally had for breakfast after Thomas or Edward would check the traps in the morning. In the absence of spring, fruits had yet to grow on trees, and none of them were familiar enough with forest life to know what foods were edible and which were poisonous, so they had to rely on their scant provisions.

These provisions were after the first couple of weeks beginning to run short, so that they had to ration it more carefully between them. They were travelling much more slowly then anticipated. Ordinarily, it would only take a week, maybe two, when not travelling at great speed to reach Norfolk's residence, but The King simply did not have the strength to ride at any level of speed at all and they had to stop frequently for breaks. Thus, the weeks stretched from two to three, and then almost a month. The issue of provisions would not normally be such a problem. However, they were avoiding passing through inhabited places where possible, fearing discovery. It may have been paranoia, but the richness of their dress and the strength of the horses were sure to attract attention and the wagging of tongues. Gossip and speculation was sure to do more damage then nights slept on the cold, hard ground. Small hunger, they could deal with when it was not so great. Discovery they could not.

It was this fear of discovery that also lengthened their journey. They knew that by now, Boleyn would be searching for them. Roads would be watched, and though Boleyn's power was not unlimitless, it would only take one chance encounter for them to be undone. So they avoided the roads, except where unavoidable. They rode through the thick forests, and rolling, green countryside. Sometimes, they would come across a river, its water swollen from the thaw, making it impassable, and they would travel hours out of their way looking for a safe place to ford it. Other times the forest would become so thick that they could not pass through and they would have to double back on themselves wasting precious time. Ditches, boggy land, hills that could not be climbed with their horses, all added to the minutes spent needlessly in the wild.

All of this added to the tension and fear of the group. Henry, the King, whilst initially pleased to be out in the open air, was as the weeks passed growing increasingly more tired, and weak. For the first week of his travels he needed to be woken up five times, and twice none of them were fast enough. Alone in the wild as they were, Henry had to make do with wearing soiled linen until they reached a small stream where his clothing could be washed. Then the cold air would not allow the clothes to dry properly. It was an uncomfortable and humiliating predicament. It had been bad enough in front of Edward alone, but to be so reduced in front of his betrothed, Henry could not bare.

The second week however was much better. Perhaps he was just too tired from spending all day travelling to dream, or perhaps his own stubborn determination finally pulled through. In any event, the second week he only needed to be woken up three times and by the third week he did not need to be woken at all.

Henry wouldn't have admitted it, but perhaps being surrounded by people who so clearly did not judge him and find him wanting, comforted him. In the deep recesses of his mind, when the nightmares and deep fears hit, he drew on that comfort and the knowledge that he was completely alone, but for those he could trust implicitly.

It came to pass that in the fourth week of the month, just a few days short of their destination, their provisions reached an end. They had just enough to break their fast, but after that they had no more.

Edward tossed a handful of twigs into the small fire that he had started, as Henry wrapped in a blanket to ward off the chill, huddled close to it whilst eating his meagre share of the food. Jane ate her own food quietly whilst Thomas went to check the traps. He returned a few moments later, empty handed.

Edward sighed, "Well, it seems we have no choice."

Henry glanced up but didn't say anything and Edward felt compelled to voice his thoughts.

"We will have to find a place where we may barter for some food. We have no guarantee that we will catch anything and we can not survive with no food."

Jane frowned, "But the risk..."

Thomas had to bite off his angry retort. There would be no risk at all if Jane hadn't foolishly taken the King outside and revealed his presence.

Edward however spoke calmly, "...Is unavoidable. We have no choice because we have to provision ourselves." Then he smiled and said, "And if we are to reveal ourselves for the sake of food, we may as well take the opportunity to lie in a bed for a night. It will seem suspicious if we do not, and this close to our goal we our not in so much danger."

At the mention of a bed, Henry seemed to sag into himself, and a ghost of a smile passed over his lips. Yes, a bed sounded very good indeed.

Jane did not seem satisfied but she understood the sense of his decision. He was right! They could not travel with no food, and as much as she wouldn't admit it, she was eager for a hot plate of food and a bath. She itched to clean herself of sweat and forest debris. Surrounded by men as she was, she had not been able to properly wash in weeks. The men hadn't either because any water they passed was icy cold, so that the most they could do was wash their hands and faces. Jane could not imagine the state she was in. Surely she was not fit to be in the presence of the King, although the King himself was in a less than perfect state. She longed also to wear clean clothes, but that she knew she would have to wait for.

Not long after they broke camp and started on the day's journey. It was afternoon by the time they reached the road, having had to double back several times and the sun was beginning to set by the time they reached a settlement.

"Hoods up everyone." Edward said, and they all immediately complied.

The settlement was either a very large village or a small town. Either way it had a small market although that was closing down for the night, and more importantly, an inn.

After stabling their horses, they made their way inside the inn. It was warm and smelled of a mix of food, ale, and smoke. It was also packed with men, all of whom were talking in loud voices. It was a very pleasant and welcoming atmosphere.

They pushed their way to the main counter, where a man was busy filling a mug with golden ale. In the heat of the inn, it was suspicious to be wearing a hood, and a few eyes followed them. Realising this, the group lowered their hoods, although they still received a few glances.

When they reached the counter the man looked up and smiled broadly, "What will it be, Masters?" Then he noticed Jane and if possible his smile widened, "and Mistress of course." He nodded his head.

"A couple of rooms for the night and some food as well. Also, some information – what time does the market open?" Edward said briskly, handing over a few coins which the man pocketed.

"Well, the rooms aint no problem. We've got one lovely single room for the Miss – unless you are married to one of these gentlemen – and a room with three beds for the Masters. Tomorrow is Church day, so the market won't be open, but I see, you've been travelling so I'm not surprised if you've muddled your days and all. I can see if I can supply you with what you need though. I can set you up in one of the private rooms for a meal, if you are so inclined, or you may eat in the common room. It's busy enough, but I'm sure I can squeeze you in. I suppose you will want a bath though first?"

The group nodded their agreement and the man smiled before shouting, "Bob! Show these gents and the miss to the rooms on the second floor, you know the ones."

A gangly youth, with a face full of freckles, pushed through the crowd carrying three tankards of ale, which he deposited on the table before executing a small bow to them.

"If you follow me Masters, Miss."

They followed him up some rickety, old staircases, to the second floor of the house and two doors which he opened. One of them had a single bed and the other had three beds.

As Jane entered the room the boy said, "Pardon me, Miss, but old Pikeman's wife (that's the innkeeper's wife!) will clean your dress up a bit for you if you wish. She'll have it back to you by morning. Can't do it properly, but it will be a bit better, and a bit more comfortable to, I'd wager."

Jane thanked the boy for the kind offer and then thanked Pikeman's wife when she came to collect the dress as well. The men after eating decided to have a few drinks as well, to ease some of the tensions that they were feeling.

Jane after eating, fell into her bed, and slept.


	14. Community Prayer

An: A second chapter so soon must be a new record for me, but it was finished so I thought I should post it. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own the Tudors. I am just a poor student, who spends time writing for fun. If you want to sue me, then it will probably cost you more money to pay the lawyers then I actually have. In other words... I am broke and am not making any money from this.

* * *

"You fool! You idiotic fool!"

Robin leaned against the doorway of Boleyn's chamber and crossed his arms. "I think that I shall take that as a compliment. Fools are notoriously wise."

Boleyn snarled and leaned towards him, "You incompetent! You have spent weeks searching, sending not a word, and yet you missed the most obvious of all clues."

"What are you..."

"The Seymours!"

Robin struggled to hide his reaction as his mind automatically turned to images of Jane; Beautiful, innocent Jane. He licked his lips and Boleyn did not miss his movement.

"Ah! I see it now; Turned by a pretty face. Which daughter was it, who so deceived you? Which whore?" he spat.

"I don't understand..."

"Of course you don't! As I said, you are an incompetent idiot, but I shall deign to explain it to you. A matter of some weeks ago, one of my spies reported sights of the King in the company of a Seymour wench."

"This I already know!"

"Indeed you do. What, you do not know was that directly after your surprise inspection, said Seymour wench apparently eloped in the middle of the night. Her brothers were sent after her, but so far none have returned."

Images once again flashed through Robins mind. Jane's surprise as he entered the room; The way she drew his eyes and made him blind to anything else but her; The sheet that was thrown up hiding her and the tub of water from view. He cursed violently.

"Damn her! I've been taken for a fool."

Boleyn smiled but with no humour, "Now you see my point, and your foolishness has cost us much but it is no matter I have already places spies on the road, and paid many mercenaries to watch the places where he is likely to flee to. You are an idiot but I am not."

"What do you want me to do?" Robin's pride was deflated.

"You are to go to my daughter. She is in seclusion but I don't doubt that you will be able to gain entrance. I had hoped to keep news of his escape from her, given her condition, but it seems that we have no choice but to tell. If the worst should happen then she will need to be prepared."

"I shall go at once."

"Good, and this time don't mess it up. You may be the father of the future King of England, but you are not expendable."

Robin gulped once and fled.

* * *

Jane woke up early the next morning, feeling refreshed after sleeping in a bed. She could have slept for hours more, but was woken by the familiar 'chis-ick' of the Black-And-White Wagtail, already beginning to move away from its winter habitat by the riverbeds. She lazed in comfort for a few minutes, listening to the call before bodily necessities obliged her to get up. After attending to her needs she dressed in her dress which had been laid out for her. She was surprised to see it already returned for she had not heard anyone enter the room.

Then she left her room, and walked next door where she could hear sounds emerging from; a sure sign that the others were already up. She knocked on the door and heard the sounds cease for a second before noise resumed and a voice shouted, "Just a moment."

The door swung open to reveal Edward, already dressed and he hurriedly gestured her inside. There, dressed only in his breeches was Henry. He was covered in angry, red blotches. Several of them were clustered around his belly, whilst five or six more climbed in a row up his arm, and more were scattered about in random places. A few were beginning to swell.

"I have been bitten to pieces." Said Henry miserable, even as a single finger went to scratch the ones on his stomach. He was unused to being bitten, but the creatures seemed to have found him a veritable feast.

"So I can see, My Lord." Jane said, whilst she took his hand and prevented him from scratching. She addressed her brothers, "Have either of you being bitten?"

"No. It is only the Ki...Henry, who has suffered so." Thomas said, belatedly realising that he should not address the King by title, when in so public a place.

Henry shot him an angry, jealous look. "Is there anything you can do sweetheart?" he whined.

"No, My Lord. They will go down on there own, but you must not scratch them! I suggest you get dressed. If you cannot see them then you will not be tempted to touch them."

Henry did not look convinced, but obligingly enough allowed Edward to finish dressing him. His hand several times went to scratch through the cloth of his breeches, and Jane had the sudden realisation that his upper body was not the only place that the little bugs had sucked on. She had to resist the urge to giggle, knowing that Henry would not appreciate it. He would not be having a comfortable day in the saddle.

After Henry was dressed, they made their way down to the mercifully quiet common room. There were only a handful of other customers, presumable the other guests in the inn, because it was too early for the usual drinkers.

Old Pikeman was again in attendance and he hurried over to the table where they happily sat themselves carrying food for them to break their fast.

After they had eaten, and were content, Pikeman hurried over to collect their dishes. As he balanced them he said, "Now there was the matter of that trading you wanted done. I don't suppose that you'd be wanting to go to church first though?"

Edward shook his head, "No. I'm afraid that we must be going today, and we cannot spare the time to stay."

Henry said unexpectedly, "I'd quite like to go to Church."

Edward frowned not liking the risk, but one look at Henry's stubborn face, told him of the futility of arguing.

Pikeman nodded happily, "Then we can do our trading after you get back if it pleases you, Masters."

Edwards frown deepened but he did not argue, and together they went to church.

* * *

The church was a small and simple one compared to the vast and grand chapels and cathedrals that Henry was used to praying in. It was already quite full when they entered and they had to find place to sit near the back. Henry was not used to it, being crowded in with the unwashed masses and not being treated any special accord. Nonetheless there was something to be said of the community of it all. The people were illiterate, but they all knew the prayers and songs by heart, and joined in with them fervently, not needing any book to guide them.

At the end of the service, Henry was moved to find prayers added for the safe return of the King, not knowing that he was sat amongst them. The man, who was sat next to Henry, prayed particularly hard at that. He was tall; taller even then Henry, but he was gaunt and dressed in clothing even more ragged then most. Yet he prayed not for himself but for a King who he had never met, and who probably, in other circumstances would not have given him a second glance. Henry was humbled anew by this display of loyalty and love by his people.

Afterwards, Henry obliged Edward to give all that they could spare in charity on his behalf. Edward, whilst not happy to be parting with _so_ many funds, obeyed his King's commands. The priest, who they delivered the money to, looked surprised when he noticed the amount given, but he didn't say anything when he noticed their clothing, which whilst beaten and travel worn was still well made.

Then they headed back to the inn, which after the service was crowded with men. They pushed their way to Pikeman and Edward quickly negotiated for some food which Pikeman happily enough gave them, for not too high a price. It did not take long after that, for them to prepare the horses and mount them. Henry winced as he sat in the saddle and Jane once again had to stifle her laugh. His expression was far too amusing.

They then road through the village and left into the wilderness again.

Unbeknownst to them, they had been spotted.


	15. To Love and To Lose

AN: Don't really have much to say in this chapter. I think it was a lot harder to write then others, and I sincerely hope that I got the emotions right. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own the Tudors, nor am I making any money out of this.

* * *

"My Lady, you have a visitor." said Madge Shelton from the door of her bedchamber. Anne looked up, from where she had been reading the bible in confusion.

"A visitor?" she asked, because not only had she not had any visitors since that bastard _Mary_ became regent, but at this stage in her pregnancy few people were even allowed to see her. She so wanted some company though.

"Yes, Your Majesty. Robin Darlin has come. He says he has an important message from your father. Will you receive him, Your Majesty?"

Anne stood up eagerly, though with difficulty as her pregnancy made it difficult for her to move, and she smoothed down her hair. Her love had come to visit her and brought tidings. "Show him in here," she said. "Wait, help me change first. I cannot receive a man in my night clothes."

Anne, confined to her bedchamber and feeling increasingly heavy and cumbersome (a sure sign of a healthy son, she had been told) had not seen the point of dressing in heavy, constricting materials everyday. The effort was just too much for her, and it was not as if anyone was around to see her, but she was eager to look beautiful for Robin. Madge quickly followed her mistress's commands and helped her with a beautiful white dress, and a few simple pieces of jewellery. She then showed Robin in.

He bowed formally before her and then approached her when she held out her hand for him to kiss. He did so, before taking a step back and he silently assessed her. He had to fight back the curl of his lips at the sight.

Anne with no one to impress and feeling increasingly isolated had taken to not showing the slightest concern in her appearance, and it showed despite the dress. Her hair, once thick and lushes was now matted and greasy, and in need of a comb. It hung limply in dark clumps to her face which had grown both sallow in complexion and spotty from lack of a wash. Her eyes were red from tiredness, and wide with the sort of madness that comes from loneliness. The dress though beautiful, only served to amplify her state. The white dress blended into her skin, and it's clingy material showed off her swollen figure.

She was ugly and Robin could not help but compare her to the last woman who he had seen. Jane had shown none of Anne's imperfections. Robin could not bring himself to pity this woman who had fallen so far, even though he had helped bring her to that state. He could not show empathy or compassion for another human, being that he was entirely selfish.

Instead he said to Madge, "The message that I bring is for Her Majesty's ears alone."

Madge looked at Anne for confirmation and at her nod left the room. The door shut firmly behind her, leaving them entirely alone.

As soon as she was gone, Anne dropped her formal dignity and smiled widely. Robin did not feel anything at her smile, "Oh Robin..." she began, but Robin smoothly interrupted, holding up his hand to silence her.

"Madam, I bring grave tidings. The man, who was your fathers prisoner has escaped." He spoke quietly and vaguely in case of eavesdroppers.

Anne frowned, "escaped, but how?"

"It does not matter, but I have come to warn you, because unless we get him back we will all be in much danger."

"Do you think we will get him back?" Anne's stomach did a frightening lurch.

"No," said Robin without preamble, "It is incredibly unlikely, but there is still a chance. However I won't be sticking around to find out. If it turns out I am wrong, then I will come back."

Anne chewed her lip apprehensively, trusting what Robin said to be true. She thought for a moment before blurting out, "Take me with you."

"What?" said Robin, taken aback by her sudden demand.

She stepped forward and grabbed his arm, pushing her swollen form against him. "I said take me with you."

Robin this time did not bother to hide his sneer of disgust and pulled himself out of her grip, "Now why would I want to do that?"

Anne looked up at him in confusion, "Because of our love for each other, and for the sake of our child."

Robin could not help himself. He laughed. "Love! How could I love a woman as hideous and disgusting as you? Have you seen yourself recently? You are lower then the filthiest tramp and have lost all appeal and usefulness to me. When you were Queen, I could look past your many, many flaws, both within the bedchamber and out of it but now I can not, nor do I wish to. Now I see that hubris has worked its magic, and I am not willing to get lost in its grip. Love? Ha! I could never love a wicked whore like you."

Anne stepped back from him as if struck and her stomach did another sickening lurch.

"No, you are lying. I love you. Why are you saying this to me? Why?"

"I am not lying, so stop fooling yourself. I could not care less for you, but take my advice; when you are delivered of a child, run. Run as far as you can."

Anne was shaking her head violently, "but our child?"

"I care naught for it." He said, and he was not lying because he cared naught for anyone but himself, and could not bring himself to have even slightest of affections for an unborn babe. If he was the future King it would have been different. Everything should have been different.

Anne took another step back and her stomach rolled over again. She felt horribly, horribly sick. Then, without warning she felt a flow of liquid between her thighs. Her hands went instinctively to the area and she brought one up to her eye. Her hand was covered with warm, red liquid. She looked downwards and couldn't stop the shout of dismay and agony. Her child! She was losing her child!

The doors flew open at her shout and a swarm of Ladies rushed in, stopping at the sight of Anne. Anne for her part couldn't see them at all.

"No!" she screamed, clutching herself whilst desperately trying to stop the flow of blood; the blood that was slowly staining her white dress red. Her other hand pressed firmly against her abdomen, in pain. All the while she screamed, shouted and begged with tears running down her white cheeks, "No, please, no! Not my baby! Not my son! Please, Lord, please!"

"Someone fetch a physician. Quickly!" one of Anne's ladies called and another went running.

Robin surreptitiously left the room. He knew that the child was lost; that nothing could save it. He knew that with that child lost and the King free then they had lost as well. So when he left the palace, he did not turn back to Boleyn. That life was over. That road to power was gone. That road would only lead to the slow death of the hangman's noose. Instead he set his eyes southward towards the ocean and England's ancient enemy of France. Perhaps in another land his fortune could be made.

That night, in the early hours of the morning, Anne gave birth to a stillborn son. His body was small and weak. His head was too large and his face had features of such foul looks that the midwife could not bare to look at it and so immediately covered it with cloth. Anne exhausted from her efforts could only look in dismay as the child was carried at arms length out of the room and out of sight.

That night whispers erupted throughout the court, and murmurs spread repeating the same word over and over again;

"Witch."


	16. Weary are the Wary

AN: I don't speak french, but the one line in it is supposed to mean, 'Yes, I have been very good'. My computer also refuses to put accents in, so sorry about that. I hope that you enjoy this chapter. I'm not very good at writing action scenes. I think I am much better at writing gory, emotional stuff like the last chapter.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Tudors, nor am I making any money out of this piece of work.

* * *

"Have you been good, Sweetheart?"

"Oui, Papa. J'ai ete tres bon"

Henry laughed and picked up Mary, swinging her up around, as the small girl giggled. He brought her close, kissing her on the cheek, and hugged her tightly. He looked at her smiling face and said in French, "My Pearl. My beautiful, beautiful pearl."

Mary wiggled in his arms and asked to be put down and Henry complied. She looked up at him in innocence and asked, "Shall we play, papa?"

Henry nodded, and then the bustling corridors filled with courtiers and servants were gone, and the two of them were outside in the gardens. Mary looked slyly up at him, and picked up her skirts and began to run, laughing gaily in childlike wonder. Henry, knowing it was a game, took after her, but as she ran she grew, and Henry was confused because his little girl was growing up. She ran into a maze, and Henry could no longer hear her laughter, and all he could see was glimpses of her, before she was hidden within the moving hedges, and why were they moving at all? Why were they changing? Henry getting desperate ran around, looking for an exit, but he was lost. He could hear people calling for him, but he knew not where their voices were, and the vines and the moss clung to him and got in his mouth and hair.

Then suddenly he was in a clearing, in the middle of the maze, and there was a fountain which spurted water from the fingers of a goddess. The goddess was made of silver and gold and the water itself was so pure and he was so thirsty, and he ran to it, collapsing by the edge and drunk heavily, but he did not think he would get to drink his fill before he was found because the voices were getting louder. He heard laughter again, and he looked up thinking it was Mary found, but instead it was the goddess, but her face had changed and in its place was Katherine. Katherine leant down, and all image faded but for her. Her image gained flesh, and Henry kneeling at her feet, looked up at her, for she was more beautiful then she had ever been in life.

Katherine reached out her hand and caressed Henry's face, and leant in so close to him, that he could feel her breath like a cool breeze on his cheek, but the calling voices were getting louder, and she was fading, though he tried to cling on to her, and just as it seemed that he would lose her forever she whispered, "I forgive you."

"My Lord!"

Henry awoke with a start, sitting up so suddenly that his head collided with Thomas's own head.

"Ow! Shit!" he swore violently, and could hear similar curses being echoed next to him.

"Your Majesty, are you alright?" said Jane, kneeling down and trying to pry his hands away from his head, so that she could look.

"Oh, I'm fine, don't worry about me. I'm only your brother. Seriously, don't bother to ask how I am." muttered Thomas angrily from where he was sitting and rubbing his forehead. It had already turned a terrific shade of red.

Jane shot him a scathing look, "You, dear brother, are making enough noise that I can be sure in your own health, however His Majesty is recovering from illness and I would remind you where your first loyalty should lie." Thomas grumbled a little, but otherwise accepted Jane's words. He shrugged, he'd had worse injuries.

The pain in Henry's own head had subsided enough that he was willing to take his hands away from his head and smile a little in gratitude, "I am fine, My Lady, though I thank you for your kindness."

Jane smiled prettily, and got to her feet, before aiding Edward with preparing breakfast. "It was hard to wake you up this morning, My Liege. Were you dreaming?"

Henry shook some of the leaves from the ground out of his hair, and started to smooth out his rumpled clothing to little effect. "Yes, I was dreaming." Then seeing their concerned looks he added, "It was a good dream." His face gained a wistful expression.

Edward and Thomas misconstrued the expression and exchanged knowing looks, which Henry didn't dare to correct. Jane on the other hand, just looked pleased. She had good reason to. It was the first dream that Henry could describe as good since the beginning of his ordeal.

Soon enough, breakfast was ready, and Henry dug into his share (Naturally larger then the other's portions) greedily, knowing that he needed the strength. As they ate, Edward explained the day's course.

"If I have not missed my calculations, then we will reach Norfolk in a matter of hours. Provided that we do not run into any unforeseen obstacles or have to double back."

Jane frowned, "Then why did we not continue on last night, if we are so close?"

Surprisingly it was Henry who answered. So far, he had allowed Edward and Thomas to plan the journey and stops, with very little input from him. "I think it is because Edward guessed that I did not have the strength to carry on, although if I were to ask him, he would say, to appease my pride, that it was because it was too dangerous to find a safe path at night."

Edward ducked his head, but did not deny the accusations. Henry smiled, "You do not have to go to such lengths. I am very much aware of the current state of my health, and see no need to hide behind false pride in front of friends such as you."

"I am grateful, My Lord. I did not wish to offend you or..." He paused suddenly, and looked up, alert.

The others looked around in confusion not knowing what grabbed his attention.

Jane looked fearful, "Edward, what is it?"

Edward held up a hand for silence and said lowly, "Get on a horse, Your Majesty."

Henry, knowing that Edward would not dare order him if the situation was not dire, immediately got up to comply. As soon as he stood up though, something flew past his ear, and embedded itself in the tree behind him. It was an arrow.

"Run, Your Majesty!" shouted Thomas as he dove to his own feet, drawing his sword. The hiss of steel was mimicked by Edward, and Jane lined up an arrow. Henry wasted no time in complying and ran in the direction of his horse, even as more arrows began to fly from the surrounding woods and men began to materialise from beneath the trees.

Henry drew his sword and cut the horse free of its tether even as the others engaged their attackers in combat. He mounted the horse quickly, and then sent it into a run, ducking trees and branches in the way in a desperate attempt to flee. He used his sword to cut down enemies who tried to stand in his way, and the horse in its fear trampled many others to death.

It was bad luck that caused an arrow to embed itself in the horse's hind. The horse reared up in pain and Henry went flying off of it. His sword soared out of his grip and he landed on the hard ground with a thump, momentarily winding him. He rolled out the way only just missing the naked steel of a blade that was swung towards his head. It caught the edge of his cloak, pinning him to the ground. Another man, seeing his predicament edged forward. Henry searched frantically for a weapon and saw his sword, just a meter away. It might as well have been a mile.

Henry watched with a fearful expression and shielded with his arm in a futile attempt to save his life as the man swung his sword at him. The blade never struck, as out of nowhere another sword, held by a thin arm intercepted it, and with a lucky, clumsy shot disarmed the man, and then whilst he was still confused decapitated him. The head rolled next to Henry's own head, and Henry could only stare as the eyes twitched.

Jane had seen Henry fall and with no regard for herself, abandoned her bow and arrow and drew the sword which she had hoped to never use. She killed a man, and then with the same sword cut Henry free of his cloak and stood over him protectively, even as Edward who had been further away approached them. Thomas was lying injured a while away, and Jane had no hope of getting to him.

They were surrounded.


	17. Who Are You?

AN: This is an embarrassingly short chapter, but that is what happens when you reach the natural ending point way before you meant to. Still, I can't think of a way to extend it without it being unnecessary. You'll just have to make do. I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Tudors, although I am fascinated by them. I think you could say that they are the original soap opera. Actually, I don't like soap opera's, so never mind.

* * *

Henry looked up in terror at the people surrounding him and knew that he was dead, despite the fact that his heart was still beating. What was worst was that he knew that even by dying he would not be able to stop the slaughter of his love and her brothers. That wasn't going to stop him from trying. He was not above begging. Not anymore at least.

"Please, let them go. You have me and I will not fight you."

Jane gasped but the figures in the circle grinned in malicious pleasure. One of them said, "Tell me, Dog, why do you think we should show you such mercy. Die in the knowledge that you are alone and all that could love or protect you died as well."

Another said, "I don't know, I'd quite like to have some fun with her before we kill her."

The others laughed and Jane took a step back and raised her sword in protection. Henry grew red in anger, "You dare to not only attack the King, but presume to rape the King's betrothed!"

"Betrothed hmmm? I wonder what the Queen would say about this."

"I have no living Queen, only a false whore and a pretender."

The laughter stopped and the weapons rose threateningly, "For that we will make your death painful. Her Majesty was more royal and worthy then you could ever be, Dog!" he spat on the ground and then advanced.

Jane saw the glint of silver and felt terror. She could do nothing but prolong the inevitable.

Henry closed his eyes not wanting to see his love fall and once more turned to prayer.

_Kyrie, eleison_

He heard the sound of blade hitting blade and the shouts and screams of men. Several times he felt the rush of air as steel narrowly missed him, or the warm spurt of blood as it sprayed from open wounds and dead flesh. More worrying was the loud thump of a body hitting ground and the fear that it was Edward's or worse Jane's body, lying dead on the floor.

Then suddenly there were new sounds. The loud neighing of horses and the thud of their hoofs as they galloped through the undergrowth into the clearing. Shouts of "Protect the Lady" and "Stop them" as well as Jane laughing in apparent relief.

Henry opened his eyes, ashamed of the cowardliness that meant he could not bear to watch his death and saw as his attackers were solidly rounded up and detained by men dressed in fine hunting clothes.

One of the men, in richer clothes then the others and wearing a hood lined with fur to ward from the cold, approached Jane, who was standing there sword at the ready with a gobsmacked expression on her face. He took her hand in his own (Henry felt a pang of jealousy. How dare someone else touch her?) and gently extracted the sword. She turned unseeing eyes on him.

"Are you unharmed, My Lady?"

"Unharmed? Yes, yes, I am. I...oh!" she seemed to come back into herself and her eyes widened in alarm. "Thomas! Thomas!" she ran to his side and another man joined her.

Henry wanting to offer her comfort, made to stand up, but the effort was a lot and he found that his legs were unsteady and he fell to the ground again. His efforts did not go unnoticed because a startled gasp came from the hooded man. He took a step forward and raised a hand but then stopped himself. "Your Majesty?" he questioned and his companions grew silent. All of the eyes turned to him in a mixture of disbelief and hope. Henry only had the strength to nod.

The man ran forward and fell to his knees next to Henry, and said in a voice that the King recognised, "Thank God! Thank God! Are you well, Your Majesty?"

Henry once again could only nod, but a shout drew his attention, and he turned to see Jane kneeling next to her brother with tears falling down her face. Edward stood next to her, an arm around her shoulders in silent support. Henry wanted to help but all he managed was to mumble weakly, "Jane."

The man turned to see who Henry was looking at and saw Jane and her brother and then spoke gently to the King, "The Lady is just distressed. The man is injured but it does not seem bad, and if we get him treatment soon then he should recover."

Henry's strength was fading again and he feared he would faint. The man seemed to think the same because he caught Henry's shoulder and eased him to the floor so that he was lying down, muttering, "Easy there, Your Majesty. I see that you are unwell, or at least have been recently. Rest for a while, and regain your strength before we are ready to move out. We will guard your sleep for you."

But his words were turning distant for Henry could barely keep awake, and as his eyes drifted shut, his last conscious thought was to wonder just why that voice sounded so familiar.


	18. Is He a Traitor, Or Is He Not?

AN: Another new chapter! I wonder how many people guessed right on the identity of the mysterious gentleman. I won't hold you in suspense. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Tudors, and am making no money at all out of this.

* * *

It could not have been an hour later that Henry was awoken. The man, still hooded was bent over, a gloved hand resting on his shoulder.

"Wake up, My Liege."

Henry sat up with a start, shook himself of the forest debris and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He, once fully awake, instantly looked around for Jane and found her standing next to Edward, her face dry of tears, but still sad looking. Edward was offering her what comfort he could and for that Henry was glad. Another man was also with them. He was clearly a lesser gentleman in their saviours company; a saviour who had yet to identify himself.

'Well, that will not do,' thought Henry. 'A man who comes to the aid of anyone deserves reward, and if the man is the King, the reward should be no less, for all that it is his duty to save him.'

Henry looked at the man who was crouched down next to him and gathered himself. "I must thank you, Lord, for your timely rescue."

The man gave a one armed shrug, "It was nothing, My Liege. We could not help but come to the aid of a Lady, and so much better our fortune when it transpired, that in doing so, we rescued Your Majesty as well."

Henry inclined his head, "Still, I would have the name of my saviour so that I may offer him apt reward."

"No reward is necessary, Sire." He paused. "Forgive me, Your Majesty, do you not realise who I am?"

Henry thought for a moment, straining his memory to place the voice and mannerisms that he recognised, "I confess that you seem familiar, but hooded as you are, I cannot place you."

The man laughed, "Then I shall brave the cold and reveal myself and rid Your Majesty of your confusion. Then you will laugh with me, and wonder how you could have failed to recognise me."

He lowered his hood but Henry did not laugh. Indeed, his very blood ran cold and he paled in terror. The man's smile faded to a frown and he reached out a tentative hand, with a question on his lips. Henry scrambled backwards, wishing he was standing with a sword in his hand to slit his enemies throat, and not so vulnerable on the ground. Instead in futile defence he shouted, "Back! Stay back! Vile traitor! Treacherous cur! What new torture is this, which saves me only to then renew the pain? Is it that you wish to betray me by your own hand and not by that of your men?"

His shouts and mad scrambling drew the attention of all in the clearing. The men, who had been preparing horses, froze and turned to stare. George Boleyn stared in horror and fear at the words flying out of the King's mouth.

"Betrayal, Sire?" he gasped out.

"Yes, betrayal. Or do you deny your own culpability?" Henry said with a sneer, leaning back as far away from Boleyn as he could get without lying down. It was an incredibly defensive and uneasy position. One in which Boleyn was unaccustomed to seeing the King in.

"Deny it most vehemently, Sire. Please I beg of Your Majesty. Why are such accusations so baselessly hurled at me?"

Henry said bitterly, "baseless? No, not baseless. You cannot deny your hand in my months of torture and captivity."

"Torture! Who dared to lay a hand on an anointed King? You cannot think that I..."

"If not you, than your base father and your whore for a sister, most definitely. You cannot be ignorant of their schemes."

"Not Anne! Not my father! No, they are loyal Englishman. Always loyal. Why would they...?" he was shaking his head, as if that action could make the truth less so.

Henry spat in anger. "You still protest your innocence and theirs. You protest it when I say that it is the truth. Do you still profess ignorance and deny culpability?"

He stared at Henry in pleading shock, "I deny it completely, Sire."

"Then what are you doing so near to me, and so far from court?" Henry asked, airing his suspicion and yet there was a faint tone of wavering doubt in his voice. His conviction of Boleyn's guilt was faltering. Either he was a very convincing actor, or he was in spite of his sister and father, innocent.

"I am on an errand to my uncle, the Duke of Norfolk, with news of..." he stopped suddenly, as if afraid to say the message. Henry has no patience for his fear.

"News of what?" he snapped.

Boleyn gathered himself and said, "Your Majesty, I regret to inform you that Anne the Queen has miscarried of your son."

Instead of claiming regret over the loss of an heir Henry erupted in rage, "Not _my _son. Your father took great pleasure in informing me that the child is not mine but that of his man, Robin, who my hatred of is second only to your father and sister. He enjoyed telling my every fault as a man. His favourite was my inability to father children. I am so weak, apparently, that I should consider myself fortunate that I was able to have even daughters. Sons, he said, are beyond my ability."

There was a silence, disturbed only by Henry's heavy breathing. Then his voice lowered so that the watching crowd had to strain to hear, but his words were full of bitterness.

"But you know what? "he said, "I am glad that she lost the child, however sinful a thought that is. I am glad, because it proves all his words wrong. If she had delivered a son, then I would never have been free of his malicious words, but now I know them to be the falsehoods that they are and none can deny that. Your father is a liar. Your sister is a whore. What say you to that, George?"

George Boleyn bowed his head, "You are right, Your Majesty, but please, do not cast me aside as one of them. I am not, and would not be party to such an act. Is not my rescue of Your Majesty proof of that?"

Henry stared into George's eyes in judgement before saying, "For the sake of that rescue, I am inclined to wait until I past judgement on you and yours. I think though, yes, I believe that you may be innocent. Breathe easy, My Lord, you are safe."

George approached Henry and kissed his shaking hand, murmuring his gratitude. Henry then struggled to his feet.

"How is Thomas?"

"Safe and ready to be moved, Your Grace." said a man who was by Thomas's side.

George nodded, "That is why we woke you, My Liege. It is so that we can make haste to Norfolk's, where we can deliver the prisoners and the wounded."

"Then let's not delay. Attend me, George. We make for Norfolk's at once."

"At your command, My Liege."

He bowed his head and aided Henry in mounting a horse. Henry looked down at him from his perch.

"George."

"Yes, Majesty?"

"Though I do not hold you accountable, the memory of your father does not inspire me to look on you with good will. It will be wise for you to be on your best. Do you understand my meaning?"

George breathed in deeply and then bowed.

"Yes, Your Majesty. I understand you completely."


	19. Will You Wait On Me?

AN: OK, so another chapter after many months of waiting. I've been wanting to write this chapter for a while now. After this, there are only a few more chapters left and then it will be the end. I think this one was a turning point to be sure.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Tudors.

* * *

It was late in the evening and Henry was alone, waiting to retire to bed in the chambers that had been given to him, and oh! What chambers they were! They were of such size and comfort; Henry had almost forgotten that it was possible. It was the best that Norfolk had. He had been treated from the second the horses had been spotted with such a level of respect and dignity that Henry half felt like weeping. The moment the horses had come galloping into the courtyard, Norfolk was there at his side, and helping him dismount. He had been immediately shown to his chambers, where a hot bath was prepared for him. It felt so good to be clean again, and to wash away the weeks of dirt and grime and forest debris. Norfolk had placed the entire household at his disposal and everywhere he went there had been bowing and calling and doffing of caps and Henry felt almost as if he was at court again. Indeed, Norfolk had made it seem almost like a mini-court. The evening meal was a hearty feast, with ten, no twenty different dishes, all of which Henry wanted to sample, but couldn't because of the weakness of his stomach. Henry had sat in the place accorded to him by rank, in clothes specially made for him. They hung slightly off his emaciated figure but they were of such fine material, and were so vibrant in colour, that Henry didn't care. His food had been tasted for him, men had stood attendance on him and there had been music and such laughter and entertainment. Henry was beginning to feel like a King again.

Oh! To be treated as he ought to be treated. Norfolk had obviously spared no expense. He felt safe as well. He was safe. Henry had not been blind to the high presence of men standing on watch, and it was well known that Norfolk had a great deal of support from the ordinary people from his family estate. Boleyn could no longer get to him. His rooms especially were guarded at all times. He was at last out of reach.

There was a knock at the door and Henry called permission to enter. It was a young man, barely more than a boy, with an eager look on his face and wide, awe filled eyes. Clearly he had never expected to be able to wait on such a person as a King, especially not one with such indomitable charisma. He was there to help Henry in his dressing for bed.

The task was quickly done. The boy had not been able to hide his horror filled gasp at the sight of Henry's scarred back. Henry could forgive him for that though, because the men who had attended him as he bathed earlier had not been able to hide their shock either. Henry was beginning to get over his shame of the marks. He was beginning to realise that the outpouring of emotion was not disgust with him, but disgust at those beasts who had committed such gross crimes.

Once he was done, the boy turned down Henry's sheets but Henry was not quite ready to get into bed yet, despite being on the brink of exhaustion.

"Where is Edward?" Henry asked, because he had grown used to his presence as he slept.

The boy beamed at him, full of pride. "He is attending his brother, Your Majesty. I have been assigned the task of guarding Your Majesty's sleep, in place of him."

Henry felt the blood leave his face. He couldn't... what if...went his panicked, confused thoughts, not able to settle on one particular concern, but a scrambling of wild emotion and thought, clouding his judgement with terror. A single selfish thought was settled on. I need him here.

"Summon him." Henry was able to say, and the boy left at once, without a single question on his lips.

It did not take long for Edward to arrive. He came in, still dressed in the clothes he had been travelling in, and standing stiffly before Henry. For, as Henry had been feasting and attending to such creature comforts, Edward had been anxiously waiting as the physician had treated his brother. It seemed that the wound was minor, but Thomas had yet to awaken and even in the most superficial wounds, the risk of infection was there.

Henry had been pacing up and down the room, his bare feet wearing a hole in the floor in tension. Without waiting for the customary greeting, Henry whirled around, came to a stop and said, "What is this about you not attending to me tonight?"

Edward's shoulders froze, before he said, "My brother has yet to awaken, Your Majesty."

Henry felt a momentary pang of something that if he had more experience he would have associated with guilt, but he squashed that emotion beneath his own panic. "I need you here."

Edward did not allow a frown to form, but a slightly pinched look came to him. He was tired. "I must do my duty to him, Your Majesty."

"And what of your duty to me?" Henry retorted, his entire frame bristling.

Edward tensed and then bowed woodenly, "If Your Majesty commands me, then, of course I will attend you tonight."

Now Henry had changed since the time of his imprisonment. Before he would have commanded without a second thought, as it was selfishness alone that commanded him. But time and experience had changed him. Further, he had grown to feel a real affection for the Seymour family, and his time with them had allowed him to read their emotions clearly. So instead of commanding him to wait on him, and so in the process do what could have been irreparable damage to their relationship, he tried to reason with him.

"If I could, I would allow you to spend time with your brother. I understand your concern, but you must understand that I need you here. I cannot have some stranger wait upon me and guard my sleep. It must be you. You alone know of my nightly condition."

Stood before Edward in only a nightshirt, he managed to radiate both a sense of vulnerability and regal dignity. His wheedling tone did nothing to detract from that. At last Edward understood. Henry was not to know that his nightly condition, as he so delicately put it, was not a secret in Norfolk's household. The physician (the same that was aiding Thomas) had been sent on ahead with Knivert to wait for the Kings arrival. The two had not gossiped, but Norfolk could be persuasive when he wanted and nothing that he wished to know could be kept from him within his own home. It had not taken long for some slip or other to be made and the entirety of the King's state to become known to him. Henry did not know that Norfolk had made preparations for an apparently incontinent King. The materials lining the bed were more absorbent than most others, made from damask, and spare bedding was placed in an easily accessible area.

Edward could not reassure him on that front without hurting his pride, but he could set his mind at rest in other ways. He smiled gently and placed a brotherly hand on the King's shoulder. Henry instantly relaxed. The familiar touch and steady presence automatically doing much to soothe his turbulent mind.

"Henry," he said, because he sensed that Henry in this case needed to be treated more like a brother than a King. "It has been a while since you last had need of me waking you up, and more often than not, you are sleeping through the night without incident."

Henry shook his head, not yet at ease with the situation. "But that was because you were there!" he protested.

Edward wondered how Henry could attest his control over his dreams to someone other than himself, "You worry needlessly. It has not been my presence that has aided you in your recovery, but rather Your Majesties own strength of will and determined conviction. You did not allow your dreams to rule you, and my presence made no difference to that. If you still wish me to stay the night then I will, but Your Majesty has the strength to master this, whether in a forest or in a bed, or alone or surrounded by people. You are the King, and do not need me, your humble servant."

Henry drew Edward into a hug. "Thank you, my friend. You are right. I must try. You cannot be around me all the time. It is not fair on you or on me. I must learn to stand on my own feet again, or I will not be worthy of my divine place. I can rule the night. I must."

Edward stepped out of the embrace and bowed low. Henry wasn't right yet, but he was one step closer. Tonight would be a test for Henry, but Edward was sure that Henry would be able to pass it. Something had changed within him. That glory, always simmering under the surface, was beginning to peak through.

The boy was summoned back in, and Edward left to attend to his brother (who had, to his great happiness, awoken during his absence). Henry had stood self-consciously for a few moments before gathering himself and clambering into bed, determined to not let the nightmares take him. The boy had put out all the candles before climbing into his own pallet, by the King's bed (making sure the knife was secure and not likely to stab him whilst he slept). Soon enough the room was filled with the sound of gentle snoring, and even breathing.

Henry awoke to dry sheets and a new dawn.


	20. The Return of the King

AN: Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year everyone. Hopefully you will enjoy this chapter. It is almost at the end now.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Tudors

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It was spring in London when the court received word that an army was headed from the North under the banner of Norfolk. It was said to be a great host and many were scared. The council had wanted the gates closed and to summon their own army to counter it. Mary had smiled mysteriously and said that Norfolk would not dare move against her. Many thought she was naive and that everything from the King's disappearance to the Queen's miscarriage was part of an elaborate plot to seize the throne. There was talk of sending the Queen to a place of safety. She was no longer carrying a child and in seclusion so there was no danger of damaging her health, but Mary had vetoed the idea. She said that even if the army had been a danger, London could not possibly be breached. Many wondered whether she should be replaced as regent.

Through it all Anne had grown more and more pale. News from her father had halted, and with the loss of her son her dreams were dashed. Her only consolation was that with the danger of the army Elizabeth had been brought to court. She spent her days idly, playing with Elizabeth. If she could she would have escaped, but she was watched openly. She feared that her days were numbered and she could only pray that her role in the treason had not been uncovered. It was a small hope so she played with her darling princess and hoped to give her as many memories to treasure as she could. She lavished her with many fine gowns and jewellery, knowing that such gifts would be in short supply in the future. Even if her own role had not been uncovered she could not hope to remain Queen and Elizabeth's future was uncertain.

It was a sunny day, full of blossom in the air when the army was spotted. Bells were tolled and the gates of London were closed but Mary had smiled widely, dressed in her finest clothes and ordered the gates opened wide. Her orders were disobeyed out of fear, but when the head of the army was spotted shouts of glee occurred and the gates were thrown wide. Trumpets sounded and there was such cheering.

At the front of the army rode Henry, still not healthy but so much better, and riding next to him was the Seymour's, Knivert and Norfolk, all in places of honour. Soon the streets were lined with people, all throwing flowers in the path of the horses and yelling out, 'Long Live the King,' and 'God Save the King,' and many other expressions of well wishes and joy.

It did not take long for the court to hear and they all gathered in the courtyard of the palace for when Henry rode in. They stared as if seeing a Phantom. Then Charles Brandon ran forward, and Henry dismounted and they embraced each other as brothers.

"I am so sorry," Brandon was saying over and over again in the embrace, with tears falling down his face but he had a wide smile on his cheeks.

Henry smiled and took him by the arm and said, "I am told that I have you to thank for my rescue."

Brandon shook his head, but his smile widened, "I amongst many Your Majesty."

Henry turned to the horse next to him and helped Jane dismount. His hands lingered on her waist for just a second too long before he tucked her hand in his elbow and brought her over to Charles.

"This is Charles Brandon, Sweetheart. Charles, Jane has been responsible for much in my return."

Jane dipped a curtsey and Charles bowed over her hand, kissing it.

Henry was about to introduce the others when he noticed Anne standing at the other end of the courtyard, trying to make her way towards him. He paled slightly, and almost cowered. He did take a step backwards so that he was amongst the soldiers before shaking his head and nodding at Charles. Charles needed no more prompting, and addressing the guards said loudly, "Arrest Anne Boleyn."

Anne froze before tilting her head back and laughing mockingly, "On what grounds do you, Your Grace, order my arrest?"

Charles frowned as others looked uncomfortably on. He then started angrily, "Do not play coy, Madam. You are responsible for the capture of the King. If it were up to you, His Majesty would be dead and a bastard son of a servant would be placed on the throne of England. But you failed and now I, on behalf of the King order your arrest. You are nothing. You are a knave and a villain. Your plot is unravelled, your schemes undone. You have tried to clot up this trice damned country with your duplicitous actions. You have failed and now I call you treasonous whore. Betrayer you are and as a traitor you shall die. On behalf of my liege lord and King I say, arrest that woman, that whore who calls herself a Queen."

Anne had paled at the accusations and then shouted angrily, "You can't do that! I'm the Queen of England."

Henry sick of the fear that had plagued him for so long, and surrounded by men finally found the courage to confront his tormentors. He gently eased his arm out of Jane's grip. He straightened his shoulders, raised his head and stepped from behind his allies and friends.

"And I am the King. I am the King who you subjected to months of torture and humiliation. The King who you tried to make a cuckold of, so that you could put a bastard devoid of all nobility on my throne."

But an idea had formed in Anne's head. It was a last, desperate effort. "You come with all these accusations, but I have one for you. I do not believe you to be my beloved husband Henry. Henry would never have accused me of such foul crimes. No, I call you a fake who is trying to steal the throne from its lawful inhabitant. I name you a pretender."

Henry felt himself whiten as angry mutterings started among the crowds. He could not tell whether the crowds were on his side or not.

"How dare you?" Brandon said as he grasped Henry's arm in support.

"How dare I? How dare you? How dare you try and take advantage of my husband's absence by placing a puppet King on the throne?"

Brandon shook his head with rage, but Henry still pale spoke up. His voice was powerful, and resounded through the courtyard. It was the voice of a King.

"I shall prove my identity. Tell me; is there a groom of my privy chamber amongst you? One who has had access to my person?"

Brandon who had guessed where this was going bent low and whispered, "My Liege, you do not have to do this? You do not have to answer the whore's accusations."

But Henry smiled wryly and shrugged out of his grip, stepping forward. "I do Charles. I do or else have mine and my heirs reign tainted by these accusations. Unless I answer it, they and I will never be safe."

Charles bowed his head and Henry approached Sir Edmund Mody, the same person who had once saved him from drowning. He spoke loud enough for everyone to hear, "Sir Edmund, you have had intimate access to my person?"

Sir Edmund answered diplomatically, "I have had intimate access to the _King's _person."

Henry nodded in acknowledgement to the safe answer.

"Then tell those watching, Sir Edmund, do I the King have any distinguishing marks on my body."

Sir Edmund hesitated, "I may not gossip about the King."

Mary had been standing in the background from the moment her father had arrived in the courtyard, not knowing whether she should approach or not, but at this she stepped forward and spoke commandingly, "My Lord King and father has commanded you speak. If he should prove a fake, which I am in sincere doubt of, then as regent I will offer you Royal Pardon."

Edmund nodded in acceptance and bowed towards the Lady Mary. He then addressed the crowd, "Henry, by the Grace of God, King of England, Ireland and France has three distinguishing marks on his most royal person."

"And what are these marks, Sir Edmund?" Mary asked.

"The first, a mark His Majesty has had since birth in the shape of a blacksmiths anvil. It is located in the small of the King's back."

There were a few twitters from the crowd at the thought of the King holding such a common symbol but no one protested the information. Henry nodded, "I have that mark."

"The second mark is a slight discolouration on His Majesty's left foot. It is from where His Majesty got too close to the fire as a child."

"I have that as well."

"The third and final mark is a scar in the shape of a cross on the King's right buttock."

Henry was rather pleased that Sir Edmund did not explain how he got that particular mark. Nevertheless he said clearly, "I have that mark."

Anne scoffed, "It is all very well, saying you have them but where is the proof?"

Henry turned and snapped at her, "The proof is coming. Charles, attend me."

Charles stood next to him and Henry placed one hand on his shoulder in balance and lifted his left foot. Edward Seymour knelt before the King and took off his boot, revealing a slightly off-coloured foot, whitened by fire.

"My first proof," he said, wobbling slightly as the crowd strained to see.

Edward hurriedly returned the boot and Henry placed his foot back on the ground. Then he started to untie his top half, and lifted it up, just enough for the crowd to see both the scars and the anvil. There was a gasp from the crowd but Henry simply said, "My second proof."

He reset his clothing and then hesitated, taking note of the watching crowd of servants, nobles, men and women alike. Anne smirked widely, sure in the knowledge that Henry was too proud to show his private regions in public.

"No third proof," she mocked.

"Be silent woman! It is no fault of mine that I wish to preserve some semblance of modesty. Very well though, it seems that I have no choice. I would request though, that not everyone needs to witness this. A small group will suffice as witnesses."

There was murmured agreement from the crowd at the fair request and a group of five impartial men were chosen. To save on time, a group of guards surrounded them, blocking them from sight from everyone. The small chosen group stared at Henry in unabashed anticipation. Henry gulped before slowly untying his drawers and dropping them to the ground. They were all that the watching crowd could see. Then he lowered his undergarment, just far enough to be below the cross. He turned on the spot allowing the entire group to witness and allowing none to be in doubt over his identity. No longer ashamed of his nakedness, he redressed with all the dignity that he could muster.

Then the shield of men parted and he faced the crowd. He placed his hands on his hips, he spread his legs apart and he stared haughtily. The crowd stared back in a mixture of hope and uncertainty. Then one of the men who had examined him knelt before Henry and said loudly, "The King has returned!" Long live the King!"

As one the crowd knelt before him, nobles and commoners alike, all bending their knees and bowing their heads in supplication. Henry smiled in pleasure and in satisfaction.

Anne did not. In a rage she let out a scream and launched herself at Henry, her hands extended like claws. She scratched and howled like a beast.

No one had time to react, and Henry in his still weakened state was knocked to the ground with ease. He hit his head on a stone, making his vision swim before him and by the time it cleared, Anne was already being dragged off him and he could hear a man saying, "Be calm Madam or continue to make things worse for yourself."

Distantly he heard Anne shriek back a reply, but he paid it no heed as Jane was kneeling by his side, helping him sit up.

"You're bleeding," she said simply, brushing a finger against a deep scratch on his face. Henry winced slightly.

"Just another scar to add to my growing collection," he joked, but Jane paid him no attention, her hand already with a handkerchief, dabbing gently at his wound.

"No, I don't think so. It is not as deep as some of the others. It should heal nicely, not like those clothes you are wearing. I am afraid those rips at the elbow and knee are quite beyond repair."

Henry shrugged, "They are borrowed anyway."

Jane smiled at him and Henry smiled back, but was interrupted by Charles dropping to the floor next to him. He scowled slightly at the interruption but acknowledged him.

"My Lord, are you alright? Do you require a physician?"

Though he didn't think Henry had been hurt, Henry had yet to get off the muddy floor and Charles was not willing to take any chance with the King's health. Henry heaved himself to his feet, holding out a hand to help Jane to hers, which she accepted daintily.

"No Charles, I am unhurt, although if you would send a physician to my chambers after I have had a chance to wash and eat I will be grateful. I want to know if these few weeks of travel have had an effect on my recovery."

A murmuring rose up again and Henry winced at his choice of words. He had not meant to say that he had been unwell.

"Recovery, My Lord?" a courtier questioned.

Henry ignored the question pointedly, turning around and spotting something that reminded him that he had one thing left to do before retiring. She was standing just a few feet away from him.

He approached his daughter, conscious of the watching people. At his approach, Mary dropped into a deep curtsey and lowered her head. Henry smiled at her, noting her petite frame and looks, inherited from her mother. He saw that she had grown into a fine young woman, and he was sad to know that he had missed it. He took her by the chin and raised her up, before pulling her into an embrace. Mary hugged him back, and Henry found that he was both laughing and crying as he held her and Mary was crying as well, and both were heedless of the watching people.

Eventually they stopped and Henry took a step back, and stared intently at Mary before slowly kneeling before her.

Mary gaped and looked anxiously around, trying to raise her father, much like her father had once tried to raise her mother when she had knelt before him in a court room so many years before. Much like then, her father would not rise.

"Father... Your Majesty... please... get up," she pleaded.

Henry shook his head, "No Mary, this is something that I have to do and something that I want people to see me doing. There can be no retraction."

Then he raised his voice so that everyone could hear.

"Mary, I owe you both my profound gratitude and most sincere apologies. In my absence you have worked tirelessly and at great risk to yourself for my rescue. You have seen to the running of the country and proven yourself more capable than any could hope to be. You have been ceaseless on my behalf, and for that I owe you a debt I can never repay. Yet I have treated you terribly. I have lowered and degraded you, almost to the extent that I, myself have been degraded. I have stripped you of title for fear that you were not enough. I was wrong to do that, and doubly so because you have proven yourself the greatest of princes. Should I have no more children, I would be proud to have you as my only true heir. You are the pearl of my world, Mary. I only wish that I had remembered that before. Mary, I kneel before you, not just as a King, but as a man who is the greatest of fools. I kneel as a man who wants nothing more than forgiveness from his worthy daughter."

He took a deep breath and then looked into her face.

"Mary, you are and always have been, Princess of England and my one true heir. Forgive me."

Mary knelt down next to her father and put her arms around his neck and said gently, "Always, Father. Always."


	21. The End of it All

Disclaimer: I don't own the Tudors. They are royalty and not slaves or serfs.

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The Great Hall in the Tower of London was a bustle of noise and activity. Every available seat was taken and those who could not sit found places to stand. There were some two thousand people in attendance if it could be reckoned. It was an unprecedented thing; a former Queen going on trial. It was even more significant than the one only a few short weeks before. Her father had been caught trying to sneak onto a ship sailing for France. His trial had been quick. The King had been the chief witness and no one would dare try and discredit his testimony. Henry had stood and in a clear voice had listed every transgression done against him. The list was considerable and at every crime named there had been an outpouring of disgust and anger. There had been no suggestion of a transmuted sentence. Boleyn had been hung like a commoner, though in light of George's aid his possessions and titles had not been stripped away through right of attainder. All of the men that had worked for Boleyn were hung, drawn and quartered, their remains sent to every corner of the Kingdom and hung on the gates of cities and towns as a warning to those who would dare lay hands on an anointed King, or aid those who would. The only one who had escaped was Robin. That wily fellow had escaped before the King's return and would likely never be heard of in England again.

Henry sat in a place of honour in the trial, stony faced as the woman who he had spent years calling wife was led in. He watched her stiffly. She was pale but resigned with no signs of madness or temper. It had been said that in the weeks preceding the trial she had been at times wild, exploding in outbursts of rage or sobs that shook her entire body. Lately though the reports had changed and said that she had begun to act with great levity and even was said to joke about her inevitable fate. Indeed, she was regretful of her actions though nothing could save her. She had been a fool and an ambitious one. She knew that there was no hope for herself and only wished to save her daughter; her sweet Elizabeth. Elizabeth had been the reason she consented without a fight when the King had said that they were never married, as he could not get married when he already had a wife. Elizabeth was the reason that she would do what she had to do in this trial.

The jury of Peers walked in. It was originally going to be Norfolk who headed it as the highest peer in the land, but he could not as he was to be a witness against her. Henry wanted the trial to be as clean as possible so that none could later turn around in support of the woman.

They began listing the crimes against her. They ranged from seducing the King away from his true wife, to witchcraft, to planning the murder of the King and plotting to put a bastard on the throne. All of those acts (bar witchcraft which was heresy) could be considered treasonous. But when they continued with;

"...the Charge of Raping the King's Majesty..."

Henry suddenly stood up. "On that front at least, she is innocent. I came into the bed fully and willingly, though I regret that completely."

There was a murmuring at the chamber, but Henry stood firm. Anne may be a despicable woman, and her other crimes were such that it would make no difference to her sentence, but she was not, if nothing else, a rapist, and did not need to be condemned as such.

The lord bowed towards the King and said, "As Your Majesty wishes. Anne Boleyn, you are pronounced innocent on that front."

The rest of the trial went without incident. Anne admitted to every charge, all the while chanting inside her head, "For Elizabeth, my Elizabeth."

When her sentence was pronounced all she did was bow her head to the King.

* * *

Henry was kinder to her than he ought to have been. He could not, even after all she had done bear the thought of her having a slow death. He did not love her, but he once had and he could not forget that. So he transmuted her sentence to being beheaded by a sword. Anne had smiled when she heard and said to her ladies with a joking tone "I heard say the executioner was very good, and I have a little neck."

The day came of her execution and she could not have been more ready. She said her confessions and prepared to die. When she walked onto the scaffold, dressed finely and with a tall back and calm demeanour, she looked like a Queen. In all her years of marriage she had been pretending but having let go of her ambitions and sins she was at last one in truth.

She surveyed the crowd and addressed them in a clear voice;

"Good Christian people, I am come hither to die, for according to the law and by the law I am judged to die, and therefore I will speak nothing against it. I am come hither to accuse no man, nor to speak anything of that, whereof I am accused and condemned to die, but I pray God save the king and send him long to reign over you, for a gentler nor a more merciful prince was there never: and to me he was ever a good, a gentle and sovereign lord. And if any person will meddle of my cause, I require them to judge the best. And thus I take my leave of the world and of you all and I heartily desire you all to pray for me. O Lord have mercy on me, to God I commend my soul."

After being blindfolded and kneeling at the block, she repeated several times: "To Jesus Christ I commend my soul; Lord Jesus receive my soul."

So it was that Anne Boleyn, who had torn England apart, died and it can be said that she was likely enough, glad to die.

As for her family, George Boleyn soon died after. It is said that he died of grief for he dearly loved his sister. Mary Boleyn, who'd had no part in the court or her family since her marriage to someone beneath her station was left to inherit all of the Boleyn's vast fortunes. Elizabeth was often seen by her father, after Princess Mary had brought her to court, for the King could not, on seeing her, deny his paternity. For the most part though, she was raised by Mary Boleyn who loved her dearly as if she was her own child.

As for the King, he married Jane not ten days after the execution and she quickly got with child. They were blessed with a beautiful baby boy, who they named Edward, for it was a kingly name and the name of the Kings dearest friend and closest confidant. Yet their celebration was short lived for Jane died of child bed fever, and so plunged her family and indeed the country into grief.

Two years later the King was wed again, this time to a woman called Anne of Cleves. Neither much liked the marriage and so they were amiable divorced. Anne became known as the King's sister and lived happily in the English country side, welcomed at court as the second highest lady in the land.

Yet it wasn't all grief that came out of the marriage. During the course of it Mary fell in love with a relative of Anne's. He was Phillip of Bavaria, and Henry having known love, consented to the match despite knowing that he could have gained a better political match.

They lived happily together for but a year, before Phillip died of consumption. Mary was pregnant at the time and shortly after gave birth to a daughter who, in honour of her sister and the grandmother she had never met, she named Elizabeth.

So it was that after Henry died, and Edward died and Mary died, Elizabeth took the throne, and history rewrote itself. Elizabeth the daughter was confused with Elizabeth the sister and people forgot about the treachery that condemned a King of England.

History forgot about the trials and torments of Henry, by the Grace of God, King of England, Ireland and France. A father, a grandfather and a husband six times. May he rest in peace.

The End

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**AN: To start with, I must say a massive thank you to all those who have been following (and reviewing) this story. It has been brilliant knowing that someone out there likes what I have written and your support, spoken or otherwise has been invaluable.**

**This story has been a true learning curve for me. I have learnt a lot about writing whilst undertaking this project. Looking back, I can see a lot of flaws; my good guys are too good, my bad guys are too bad and their reasons for doing certain actions sometimes don't make much sense. As I learnt more about the social conventions and beliefs of the time (rather than the straight facts) I struggled to continue with the writing. This became even more true as I learnt more about the effects of trauma and I realised how utterly unprepared I was to deal with those effects within a story. In particular I disliked the fact that I based a relationship off of the recovery as that can be damaging in another way. **

**Nevertheless, I persevered, determined to finish writing this story and see it to an end. In doing so I also learnt a lot and discovered that whilst there were flaws in the story there were (hopefully) redeeming qualites as well. I learnt that characters do not have to be two dimensional. Anne Boleyn, who I wrote to be a villain and had no good qualities in the beginning, I think was shown in the end to be more three dimensional and sympathetic. My over all aim of the story, which was to break down Henry and build him up as a better person was a success. I cannot be upset that I wrote this as the experience has been invaluable. The most important lesson I learnt was that I have the capability of seeing a story through to the end even when I no longer like what I am writing about.**

**Thank you all for reading. I hope you have enjoyed the experience.**

**Sincerely,**

**Cap ;)**


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